Falling Into Step
by Amarra17
Summary: Buffy is a senior in high school and has recently broken up with her boyfriend, Angel, who moved to LA. Spike is the guy she can't stand...right? AU. I know it sounds cliche, but just give it a chance.
1. Summer Band

-----Falling Into Step-----

Buffy is a senior in high school who's just broken up with her boyfriend, Angel, who moved to LA. Spike is the guy she can't stand…right?

Just a quick credit and thanks to Coquine who inspired this fic with her, 'The Marching Razorbacks'. Without her, this never would have come about, because I'm just a band geek who happens to be a Buffy fan, and never thought the two could mesh. Here's where I (hopefully) prove that wrong.

* * *

Dawn stopped outside of the room, feeling exceedingly nervous, like she might vomit, or run away…or both. She tightened her grip on the handle of her long rectangular case and took a deep breath. It was her first day of high school; rather, the first day of summer band, but it was all the same.

She walked in slowly, her legs feeling leaden as she stepped over the threshold, weighing her down with each step as she looked around desperately for a familiar face. No one. The room was large and spacious with a high ceiling and bright lights. Directly in her line of vision was the podium, which faced the entire room filled with chairs, instruments, and people. Lots and lots of people.

She stood and gazed around for a moment, taking in the sight before her. Everyone seemed to know everyone else; they were all standing in groups or setting up instruments. Occasionally she spotted someone who looked nearly as lost as she felt, but the majority of them seemed to know exactly what they were doing. She gulped and turned right, trying to appear confident by going over to the back row of chairs where several trumpets were already set up and taking a seat near the end.

She pulled out her instrument with shaking hands and put on her mouthpiece, and then slid her case under the chair and fiddled with her trumpet in her lap as she apprehensively raised her eyes. The chatter and bustle of over one hundred people trying to get situated in the small room was somewhat overwhelming, and the sense of detached awe swept over her once again.

That's when she saw them: a group standing in the front of the room, completely at ease, laughing, talking…oblivious to everyone except each other. There were six of them; four girls and two guys. Dawn knew instantly that they must be seniors. The girls, a pretty blonde, a redhead, and two with chestnut waves, looked completely perfect. Dawn felt a pang of envy. That's what girls in high school were _supposed_ to look like…The guys, one with dark hair and the other with spiked brown locks, Dawn looked at with one thought, _Wow, high school guys_…

She stared at them, wishing she were a part of that group, not even noticing when a middle-aged man with glasses and a tweed suit entered the room from the same direction she had. Everyone else noticed, however, and began to sit down, some warming up and others continuing their conversations. Dawn knew she should warm up, but with all these superior musicians around her, she didn't dare play a note, instead contenting herself with biting her lip and smiling at anyone who came along while trying not to blatantly eyeball the group in the front.

So intent in her not-watching, she didn't even notice when one of the girls with chestnut hair came in her direction. At the last second, she looked up, spotted her, and stared at the floor and fingered her valves nervously. _Try not to look like a complete dork when she passes…_she told herself.

"Hi," the girl said, suddenly directly in front of her, smiling warmly and extending her hand. "I'm Tara."

In disbelief, Dawn took it. _I'm meeting one of **them**_. She looked up to where the group had been, but they had dispersed, and Dawn focused her attention on the one member who had actually bothered to approach her. Tara's long brown hair waved prettily down her shoulders, stopping a little below them. She wore jeans and a loose flowered shirt with matching sandals on her feet. "Um, hi," she said, standing up. "I'm Dawn."

"Freshman?" The girl, Tara, sat down next to the seat she had just vacated, absently moving a binder of music onto the floor.

She nodded, awkwardly sitting back down.

"You're going to like band. It's a lot of work, but it's really fun. Football games are the best."

Dawn nodded again, enjoying the girl's quiet demeanor and friendly chatter. She racked her brain for something interesting to say.

"Hey, Anya!" the girl called. Her voice was gentle, but the other girl responded instantly, walking over with a scowl from where she had been standing a few feet away.

"Xander didn't buy me a present," she complained, oblivious to Dawn's presence. "I think I deserve a present. We're seniors now!" It was another member of _that_ group. Dawn sat a little straighter.

"Anya, this is Dawn." Tara announced pointedly, ignoring the other girl's complaints.

"Oh, hello." Anya turned her attention to the girl and looked at the instrument dangling in her left hand. "I see you're in my section. I'm the section leader," she proclaimed proudly. "Last year it was some moron named Gena, but this year will be much better, so you'd better practice."

"I- I will," Dawn assured the older girl, a bit disconcerted by her outspokenness.

"Well, nice to meet you!" Anya smiled happily and walked back to the dark haired boy Dawn had noticed earlier, presumably Xander, and took his hand in hers. _Damn…taken, _Dawn thought. Tara too, rose and with a small wave, walked over to the clarinet section and sat next to the pretty blonde she had seen earlier who was now sitting first chair. Dawn was left alone again, but as the director finally took the podium, she felt much more at ease. They had _talked _to her…

* * *

Buffy sighed, sucking impatiently on her reed, when Tara plopped down next to her. "Introduced yourself to any of the freshmen yet?" she inquired.

"Nah," Buffy replied sounding bored. "Maybe later. Did you practice this summer?"

"Yeah." Tara smiled. "You better watch your back."

Buffy grinned. "So how are things with Kennedy?"

"Oh, w-we broke up. She had…control issues."

"Kinda noticed those," Buffy said sympathetically. "It wasn't too serious though, right?"

"No…just a summer fling. Kinda hard to get upset about."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed.

"Hey, G-man!" Xander yelled from across the room, slipping his neck strap over his head. "We starting yet?"

"Yes, yes, Xander. I know you're all eager to begin preparing for contest, but just a minute," replied Mr. Giles.

"Contest?" Xander laughed. "Actually I was thinking I wanna show off my new first-chair skills. The ladies love the sax." He patted his instrument lovingly and elbowed Sandy, the small girl sitting next to him who merely rolled her eyes.

"Alright, alright," Giles shuffled through some sheet music on his stand and raised his hands. "F-concert, please," he said, waiting for a moment while everyone got settled and then counting them off in clipped British tones.

A resonant tone filled the room and Giles listened intently for a moment, then, apparently satisfied, cut them off, announcing, "Warm Up 1. Do all the freshman have music?"

He waited, and when no one replied, he took it as assent, knowing many of them were merely too afraid to speak up. He knew the upperclassmen would help them along, and so he led them into the first chords of the warm up, stopping almost immediately. "Percussion, you're off," he said with irritation. He glanced up at them and paused. "Oz," he questioned. "Where is Spike?"

The drummer shrugged.

"Good lord, he's not _here_? He's head of the drumline, he can't be-"

Just then, as if on cue, the back door just behind the percussion section opened and Spike slipped inside. He looked exactly the same as Buffy remembered him; slicked back bleached blonde hair, worn black leather, and she knew if she could see, irritatingly clear blue eyes.

"Ah, William, so glad you decided to join us…" Giles said impatiently as Spike strapped on his snare, tossing his long leather coat in the corner and expertly flipping his sticks in his hands.

Buffy rolled her eyes as she ended her appraisal and noticed that half the eyes in the room, all of them girls, and nearly all of them freshmen, turned to stare at the new arrival. "Look at them!" Buffy muttered indignantly to Tara. "I'm surprised their eyes haven't fallen out of their sockets, what with all the ogling! What do girls see in that idiot?"

The other girl shrugged, the small hint of a smile on her face, then replied, "You thought he was cute in freshman year, and that was _before _the bleached hair and nice body. If you ask me, he's only improved."

"Well that was _before _I knew him," she said defensively.

"Well they don't know him either," Tara pointed out. "I don't think he's that bad."

"Well, I don't see why they have to look at him. Dumb little girls…"

Meanwhile, Spike had apparently won his argument with Mr. Giles, who polished his glasses as Spike muttered instructions to the other drummers. A moment passed, Giles tapped his baton on the stand in front of him, and they resumed playing.

* * *

"Agh, I'm tired," Buffy said as she packed up her instrument and headed out the back door with Willow and Xander. The front door was seldom used during summer band because it led straight into the school, and while useful when they had classes, not as practical as the back, which led straight out to the parking lot.

They had spent the last four hours teaching the freshmen how to march, a task that was completely hopeless in their opinion. "God, they're dense," Willow sighed, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. "I mean, I know they're trying, but what's with all the wobbling and shaking and 'aah'?"

"Was I _ever _that dumb?" Xander asked, then rushed on, "No. Don't answer that…So, who's up for some frothy goodness? I'm proposing milkshakes for all."

"Yum!" Willow hurried around to the passenger side of his car and jumped in while Buffy unhurriedly made her way around and crawled into the backseat as they waited for Tara and Anya to come out. Anya, however, claimed fatigue and peeled out of the parking lot in her pink Volkswagen beetle, and Tara said that she'd walk home.

As they were backing out, they saw Spike exit the band room and climb into his black Desoto. "He's such a jerk," Buffy commented, immediately frowning on seeing the bleached blonde.

"All the drummers are…"

"Hey!" Willow smacked his arm in mock anger as they pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the quiet streets of Sunnydale.

"Except Oz…" Xander amended, fearing another onslaught from the redhead.

Buffy stared out the window, watching as they passed trees, houses, and the occasional person. She could practically see the heat rolling off the sidewalk in waves. Just looking at it made her sweat and she reached up between her two best friends to turn up the air conditioning.

Once they got to Willy's diner, basking in the cool air that enveloped them the moment they stepped inside, they all ordered milkshakes and sat down. "The show's going to be awesome this year," Willow commented enthusiastically as she sipped on the large icy mug of strawberry goodness that Xander had bought her.

"Yeah," Xander agreed, downing half of his chocolate shake in one gulp and wincing in the near immediate aftermath. He shook it off, commenting, "And the football team will go far, or at least they would've if Angel hadn't-"

Buffy stiffened. _Angel…_ She felt the table jerk and knew that Willow had just kicked Xander not-so-discreetly underneath. "It's ok, you guys, he moved. It's not like he's dead. I'm over it. Or, I will be…but really, you can say his name."

Buffy and Angel had begun dating mid-freshman year and had been together ever since, but then his family had moved to LA and they'd both agreed it would be better if they ended things. The long distance romances never worked…It had broken her heart, and shocked everyone around them, but it was for the best. Or so she kept telling herself…

"Hey, guys, wanna-" she gestured towards the door with her head. "I'm beat. Those freshmen take a lot outta ya…" she joked, taking one last sip of her vanilla shake.

Her friends unquestioningly rose with her and the trio moved towards the door, pausing to let in a family of three. They recognized the daughter as one of the new freshmen and made an effort to make her feel welcome, as Giles so often reminded them to do. "Hey." Willow smiled kindly and Xander gave a small wave. Buffy nodded absently, lost in her thoughts, but noticing as the girl's face light up excitedly at the greetings from the older students.

"Hey," the girl replied happily. "See you guys!" she called as they breezed out the door.

Her parents smiled at one another, _Our Dawnie's becoming popular already…_

Outside, the three seniors shielded their eyes from the hot sunlight and hopped into the car. Xander asked casually, "What was her name again?"

There was a round of shrugs and they drove away laughing.

* * *

Buffy walked in her front door and went upstairs to practice her instrument, then decided against it, and collapsed onto her bed, sighing blissfully as she sank into the cool mattress. She ran her fingers over the flowered comforter and thought happily over the events of the day, scowling when reflections of Spike came to mind.

_Spike walking in late, _

_the freshmen girls ogling Spike, _

_Spike playing his drum solo, _

_Spike calling out cadences, the low rumble of his voice reaching her ears even from the back of the room_…

_Dumb, arrogant jerk, _she thought.

She couldn't wait until tomorrow. Their music was intense and she loved a good challenge. She thought of all the skips and runs of sixteenths that she had yet to master. For now, though, a nap sounded awfully nice…

* * *

The next week was filled with 'Mark time, huts' and three step intervals, instrument positions and 'presence' as they learned page after page of the ridiculously hard drill, Giles showing them no mercy.

"God, I'm exhausted," Buffy commented to Anya as she reached for a bottle of water during one of the few and far between breaks bestowed upon them by the British band director. There was only one left, and Buffy smiled gratefully.

"Move it, Summers," a rough British voice growled as a hand reached out and snapped the bottle from her grasp.

"Hey!" She turned angrily and her scowl deepened when her eyes confirmed who it was. He had on black jeans and a fitted black tee, his crystal blue eyes taunting, mocking her.

_What kind of idiot wears all black in hundred-degree weather? _she wondered. She was sweltering in her shorts and baby blue tank top. "I think that was mine…" she informed him through gritted teeth, trying to keep her cool, something proving to be very difficult when she again thought about the hundred degree weather and who had stolen her reprieve from it.

"Don't see your name on it…" He rolled his tongue under his teeth, a self-satisfied grin working its way over his features as he unscrewed the top and took a swig.

Normally, that would have been it. She would have forgotten about it. But it was hot, and at that point, she didn't care if Satan himself had drunk from that bottle. It was _hers_. "Spike!" Her fists clenched as she glared at him. She snatched at the bottle, but he held it above his head as he leered at her. "Give it to me!"

"Here, Summers?" he questioned, a faux shocked expression on his face. There were hesitant titters from the small crowd of freshmen girls who had gathered to watch the interaction between the two blondes. A few of them glared jealously at Buffy, but she was too angry to pay them any mind.

"Huh?" she asked, not getting it.

He gave her a knowing look.

"Eew!" she exclaimed when it hit her. "Pig!" She slapped his chest in disgusted anger.

"Now, now," he admonished, taking another sip of water and enjoying it _way _too much, rolling his dexterous tongue along the inside of the rim. "No need to get physical."

"Asshole." She turned and flounced away, 'accidentally' stomping on his boot as she did so. If she had a seizure or got heatstroke or something from dehydration, she was _so_ suing that idiot.

"Language, pet. Language…" he called out from behind her as their audience dispersed.

Anya ran up beside Buffy, handing over her own half-finished bottle. "Thanks," Buffy muttered. "You know, I _really _can't stand him." She downed the remaining half the bottle in one gulp.

"No. He's quite aggravating. But I'll bet he has a large penis," Anya remarked.

Buffy sputtered, coughing frantically. She was used to Anya's comments, but she _so _didn't want to think of Spike's…eew.

Just then, walking up and rescuing her from any icky Spike thoughts, Oz and Willow appeared.

"Hey you guys," Willow greeted. "I've _finally _got this flute solo down pat. And the drumline's doing great…especially Oz."

"Finally? Baby, it's only been a week," Oz told her with a sort of loving pride while modestly ignoring her compliment.

"A week is an eternity in band. And you guys _are _doing great…"

"Actually, it's Spike who come up with all the interesting rhythms and variations…I just play 'em. Without him the percussion part wouldn't be half as interesting…" Oz stated matter-of-factly.

"Please!" Buffy tipped the few remaining droplets of water into her mouth as she crinkled her nose in disgust. "You're giving him _way _too much credit," she argued.

"No, he's right Buffy," Anya said. "That guy has it."

"I think he's just a loner, slacker…stupid guy who is _way _oversexed." She rolled her eyes.

"But a stupidly oversexed guy I wouldn't mind getting my hands on…" Anya stated as the four of them glanced back to see him and the flag captain…_enjoying_ themselves in a shaded corner next to the gym.

"Hey!" Xander declared, walking up.

"Get my hands on in a 'Grr, you woman user!' sort of way," Anya amended.

"That guy is blessed…"Xander stated. "He's just _getting_ what the rest of us _want_. It's not like he tricks them into it. You know how open he is about the whole 'no-strings-attached' thing. Lucky bastard."

It was Anya's turn to exclaim, "Hey!"

"Who's that?" Oz interrupted the potential squabble, gesturing to a young girl staring wide-eyed as Spike ran his hands under the other girl's blouse.

"Oh, just the newest member of the Spike Fan Club," Willow said.

Her name's Dawn," Anya informed them. "She's in my section. A good section leader always learns everyone's name."

The others inwardly rolled their eyes at her boasting and the five of them sat wearily on the curb to discuss the merits of freshmen and make-out sessions until Mr. Giles called them back to the football field. This _had_ to be against child labor laws…

* * *

"I'm so excited about the lock-in next week," Willow said that night over the phone. "Those are always so much fun."  
  
She was referring to the official band lock-in they had every year to celebrate the end of summer band. By this time, the freshmen were fairly adequate marchers and the first part of the drill was learned; the reward was the entire gym reserved for pizza, coke, dancing, basketball, a big-screen TV, and sleeping bags shoved up against the wall.

Supposedly it was a 'get to know you' sort of thing, but people just hung with their friends and if you didn't know anyone, you wouldn't bother showing up. "Yeah, Wills," Buffy agreed. "It'll be great…I can't wait." She paused, then added, "Well, I gotta go…Mom needs to use the phone."

"Ok, see ya tomorrow, Buffy!"

"Bye!"

"Bye."

The phone clicked off and Buffy sighed, her stomach rumbling. She was excited about the lock in and excited about being a senior, but things somehow didn't seem as great as she thought they would, considering she had everything to be happy about. She had her friends, she was first chair, her mom had splurged on a killer new wardrobe for her…so why wasn't she thrilled?

There was Angel. She missed him, but truthfully, it had been three months. She just wanted to get over him. That was it. She needed a guy. Well, didn't _need _one, because she believed in all that feminist, don't-need-a-man-to-complete-me stuff of course, but a cutie for senior year was a must. She'd spent enough time brooding over Angel. It was time to move on…This year would be about fun flings and crazy dating. No seriousness for Buffy. She'd had enough of that for the past three years. It was time to get out there and find out what she'd been missing.

Angel-scmangel.

_Do you really believe that? _she asked herself. She'd told her friends she was over it, herself she was over it, but was she?

_No…_she knew. But dating? No-strings-attached dating? Yep, definitely the way to go.

* * *

Well, It's me again, with yet another new story. Its AU and not too conventional, so I hope you like. I'm not expecting many reviews for this, due to the fact that, well, like I said, it's different. But it IS Spuffy, and I promise to try and make it good, so please R&R!! 


	2. The Lock In

Buffy and Willow entered the gym, the former in pink silky pajama pants with camels on them and a matching cotton tank top, and the latter in sweats and a tee, carrying a fluffy sleeping bag. The two girls looked up from their conversation long enough to notice that Xander, Anya, and Tara had already claimed the far corner and were lounging around gossiping cheerfully, so they rushed over to join them.

They hurried past a yellow jumping balloon stationed in the corner adjacent to the entryway, and then edged their way around the big screen TV set up in the center of the gym. There were also a couple groups playing various forms of basketball or dancing to the music provided by the DJ that they had to work their way through, but in the end they finally made it through to the others.

"Hey guys! Who's up for some dancin'?" Willow asked merrily as she ran up and threw her things amidst the already large pile of junk their group had accumulated. She looked around hopefully at the reluctant faces of her friends, then glanced expectantly over to her boyfriend, who'd arrived shortly after the girls.

"I would, but…flapping my arms like winged fowl? Not really my thing." Oz said by way of apology, gesturing his head to the DJ who was now playing 'The Chicken Dance'.

Willow pouted.

Oz shrugged helplessly.

"I'll go…" Xander volunteered in an unexpected burst of sympathy for the only other male in the group. The drummer's relief was nearly tangible as a wide grin spread over his girlfriend's face and she quickly disappeared, bouncing along exuberantly behind Xander.

"I'd better go with him…" Anya decided, climbing lazily to her feet. "Chickens are very provocative…I _don't _want him dancing with other girls." She quickly dusted the chip crumbs from her fingers and sprinted across the gym.

Oz glanced back and forth between the two remaining members of the group, then excused himself and went to join the small circle of drummers watching 'Little Nicky'. Buffy watched for a moment as he greeted them with a round of high fives and other foreign, masculine gestures, pondering how someone as nice as Oz could stand to socialize with such Neanderthals.

"W- want some pizza, Buffy?" Tara asked after a moment of awkward silence, effectively snapping Buffy from her reverie.

"Sure, Tara," Buffy replied, looking around the gym once more. "Cheesy goodness is what fun is made of…Well, that and other things." Tara hurried away to go get the food before Buffy could offer to come with, so she stayed put and smiled at the sight of Xander attempting to dance with Willow as Anya cavorted in crazy circles around the both of them. A few others that she knew munched on the goodies generously provided for them by the band boosters, but the majority of people lay in small groups talking or crowded in front of the TV near the exclusive drummer clique. She heaved a sigh and was just about to go join the others on the dance floor when a shadow fell over her.

"Alone?"

Buffy looked up and sighed again, louder this time, as a pang of annoyance stabbed through her at the sight of a certain bleached-blonde pain in her ass. "I _was_."

He ignored the pointed remark and casually replied, "Well, y' looked bored. _I'm _bored. That movie gets old after a while…" He gave a disinterested tilt of his head towards the television. "Thought I'd challenge you to a little game."

"Game?" Her eyes narrowed dubiously as she looked him up and down. Nothing seemed to be amiss, however, and she relaxed slightly, waiting for him to continue.

He smoothly produced a basketball from behind his back and bounced it on the floor in front of where she was sitting, handling it with a practiced ease.

"Spike, I can't _stand _you…what makes you think I'd want to play basketball with you?" she questioned with a perfectly scathing eye roll, willing him to leave.

"Oh, I dunno. I was just thinking of how much fun it is to kick your ass," he retorted with that infuriatingly confident grin that irked her to no end. He seemed to know exactly how to get to her and she hated him for it.

"Like you could…" Her hands clenched and she gritted her teeth as she glowered up at him. She couldn't even _pretend _to be unfazed…

"Prove me wrong."

A moment passed as she considered his offer, the ball bouncing heavily on the polished wooden floor. She toyed with the end of the sleeping bag underneath her as she fought her pride and tried to ignore the challenge he had deliberately laid out in front of her. The endeavor proved fruitless, and at last she grumbled, "Fine. And when I beat you, you have to leave me alone…"

" 's not like I wanna stick around anyway." He tossed the ball between his hands as he slipped off his black leather coat and flung it in amidst her friends' sleeping bags, pillows, and chips.

"Hey!" she objected, wincing for the now-contaminated items.

"Shut up, Summers." He passed her the ball and stalked out onto the court. "Let's play."

* * *

"Looks like I'm winning," Buffy panted. "Imagine that."

"You've got 32, I've got 28…nothing a few well placed shots can't fix."

"Well placed-"

She didn't finish her statement as he easily dodged around her to make a neat lay-up into the basket, an action so sudden that it took a moment for her to realize that he had moved at all. She blinked and whirled around. Gloating, he hurled the ball at her.

She glared daggers at him, taking a small step forward, angry over her momentary lapse in concentration and her underestimation of his skill. She wouldn't make _that _mistake again. Her white socks made no sound against the slippery floor as the ball bounced rhythmically and her body unconsciously swayed back and forth with each thump, the cadence soothing her as she looked for an entrance. "You _so _aren't gonna win this, Spike."

He stripped off his red overshirt and cast it aside, never taking his eyes off of her. "No?"

She ignored him and asked, "Getting nervous? Or do you just-" She tilted her head inquiringly. "-enjoy removing your clothing?" _Thump. Thump. Thump._

"Only for you, baby," he teased, using her slight distraction to lunge forward and snatch the ball away once more, taking another quick shot. _Swoosh. _" 's a tie now, luv. Next shot wins."

"It's only a tie 'cause you're a big cheater," she whined, sounding highly reminiscent of her third-grade self, enraged that she'd let him score again. Damn him, she hadn't whined in _years_…

"Cheater?" He looked surprised at her outburst, then grinned. "I can't help it if you're distracted by my rugged manliness."

"Distracted by your extreme stupidity, more like it…" she muttered. The fact was, however, that she couldn't help but notice the bulge of his biceps when he dribbled, caught the ball, hell, whenever he _moved_. For some reason, the image of him taking off the black tee as well flashed through her mind, but she pushed it away. _Eew._ "Fine," she said aloud with renewed concentration. "Next shot wins..."

* * *

"Isn't she always talking about what a jerk he is?" Xander shook his head incredulously as he tried- and failed- to focus on the Game boy in his hands. "_What _are they doing playing a recreational _sport _together?"

Willow shrugged, crunching on some Tito's chips as she leaned comfortably against the wall. "They both look kinda cranky to me," she assured him.

"It's _obviously _sexual tension," Anya murmured from her vantage point, sprawled across the sleeping bag. She shifted her head slightly to better watch the interaction between the two blondes.

"And you would know this, _how_?" Xander asked her, desperately trying to block the images that came to mind.

She shrugged.

"Spike's a pretty cool guy," Oz commented, watching them impassively. "Never saw why they didn't get along…"

"You're merely enthralled by the section leader mystique," Xander argued knowledgeably, setting aside his game for the moment. "I myself have induced this stupor in many a sax player. Snap out of it, Oz-man."

Tara only looked up from her magazine long enough to give them an amused glance and mutter quietly, "I just hope they don't kill each other…"

* * *

"That all you got, Summers?" He dribbled the ball, bouncing it from his left to his right hand, staring her down as she watched his every move. "Little clarinet player hasn't got the stones…"

"Oh I've got stones. I've got a whole bunch of…stones, drummer boy." _Stones? _

"No talent…" he continued, moving to the left.

"No _talent_? Like playing the _drums _requires any talent at all…'Woo, look at me, I can hit things with sticks!'" she mocked.

"Ever since Angel left, you've-"

"What about me?" she snapped, immediately riled at the mention of her ex. "Ever since Drusilla dumped you, you've been player of the century, trying to convince everyone you're over her…Newsflash: doesn't work."

His face darkened, but he replied flippantly, "What? Can I help it if I'm the most desired man on campus? _They _come onto _me_, Betty. And I'm only human…"

"It's _Buffy_." She batted the ball out of his hands with surprising strength, and then it was her turn to dribble, looking for an opening to score. "And that doesn't mean you have to use them all."

"Maybe they wanna be used…" he countered, a wolfish grin creeping its way over his features. "I've never had any complaints…ask around. I _never _disappoint a lady."

"Oh, is _that _what you call all the hos who jump into bed with you? You're a pig, Spike."

"Don't I know it." He leered at her. "So how 'bout you? How many you been with since the great brooding pillock?"

"Shut up." She weaved around him and shot, missing by mere centimeters, ignoring the jolt she felt when his hand brushed lightly against her stomach as he tried too late to block her.

"None then, is it?"

"And you? A hundred?" Her face flushed and she wrestled the ball from his grasp with renewed fury.

"If y' really wanna know…two."

"Two?" she raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "But I just saw you the other day with-"

"Watching me, were you?"

"No! But…two?"

"Harmony, and a girl named Faith I met in LA."

"What about-?"

"I meant shagging, Summers. You want a list of everyone I've touched, kissed…received nasty little favors from?" He did that thing with his tongue…that thing she couldn't _stand_, and she crinkled her nose in disgust.

"Eew, no. I-" She wasn't quite sure how to continue, not about to tell him that she was a virgin. That she and Angel had never…He'd wanted to, so had she; but she wasn't ready and he respected that. Then he'd left and- her brow furrowed.

She was saved from having to continue when he commented, "Looks like we have an audience…"

Buffy turned to see what he meant, instantly annoyed to see a small group of freshmen girls watching the two of them. "_You _have an audience," she corrected, snatching up the ball from where it had come to rest on the ground during their heated debate. She dribbled once, focused on the basked above her head, aimed and tensed her muscles. She released the ball with perfect grace and accuracy to sink a basket easily before he even had time to turn his attention back to her. She chirped happily, "I win…"

He turned to look at her and clenched his teeth. "And _I'm _the cheater?"

"Yup…" Buffy replied simply. She sashayed away, a smug grin on her face, leaving him to stare after her.

* * *

"That movie is the best. It's addictive! Like chocolate…you know, if chocolate were for your eyes," Buffy said as they moved away from their turn at the TV.

"I know. I _love _'Interview with A Vampire'," Willow agreed, her face bright with enthusiasm. "Majorly creepy." She shuddered.

"No," Buffy argued. "I just like it because, hello? Tom Cruise? Being all sexy and evil?"

Willow nodded in immediate understanding.

"Hence the eye candy reference..." Buffy continued sleepily. "Imagine being around a hot vampire all the time? I'd jump him."

"Ah, the allure of dangerousness…" Xander shook his head in dismay and reached out to lace his fingers with Anya's. "_I _could be dangerously evil if I felt like it."

"I'm sure you could, sweetie." Anya patted his arm with her free hand, a look of false conviction secured firmly on her face.

"What does Tom Cruise have that I don't?" he continued, thinking to himself. "I mean, there's the looks, sure. But I have been told I have the looks of a less dark and brooding Josh Hartnett. And what are looks anyway?" He and Anya walked slowly at the front of the group, a contented- or at least semi-contented- silence falling over them.

"Where's Tara?" Willow asked, ignoring Xander's sulking as they walked towards their sleeping bags, noticing her friend missing for the first time since the movie started. There was something about vampires, male vampires in particular, that made everything else appear in a lesser light, even if it was for a short while. It was like a thrall. A TV thrall…

"I believe she's in the land of dreams…where vampires go around seducing people," Xander replied bitterly.

"I can't _believe _she fell asleep! Partypooper." Willow frowned and replied, "And I don't think Tara's the type to dream about seductive vampires unless they're…you know, girls."

"Point taken." Xander's eyes glazed over for a moment, evidently imagining this scenario. Suddenly in much better spirits, he continued, "Actually, sleep sounds good…Anya?"

"Yes. Rest would be nice." Anya immediately began tugging him towards a large blue sleeping bag where she flopped down, taking him with her. The couple untangled their limbs and curled together almost instinctively, Xander's arm protectively wrapped around her waist as she snuggled into him. Buffy felt a small pang of jealously at the intimate scene, her single-ness obstinately staring her in the face. She averted her eyes and glanced over to where Oz sat, leaning on the wall, headphones on, nodding his head to a beat unheard by the rest of them and silently drumming along in his lap. She watched him for a moment, then turned to Willow.

"Walk, Buffy?" The redhead met her gaze and questioned almost desperately, eyes shining with hope.

"Ok," Buffy agreed, not entirely sleepy yet, and not sure she _wanted _to sleep in a room full of teenage boys who would undoubtedly get a hold of someone's makeup and go wild. She recalled what they had done to Jonathan, a trombone player, during the freshman year lock-in and shuddered. Sleeping was _definitely_ not a good idea…

The girls exited the gym and walked up the dimly lit hall in companionable silence. Willow stopped in from of the restroom and said, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom, Buffy. I'll meet you outside?"

"Ok." Buffy nodded and continued on towards the door. It was propped open by a trashcan and she made her way around the mess that had accumulated in its vicinity, stepping over papers and empty soda cans. She exited the building and looked up at the stars, the cool dark feeling refreshing against her skin, awakening her lethargic body. She glanced down at her watch, or rather, the watch she had borrowed from Xander during a particularly extreme bout of boredom earlier that evening. It read 1:20. The lock-in ended at six, but when she tried to calculate how much time between now and then, her mind didn't seem to want to cooperate so she gave up and instead crossed her arms over her chest and began to languidly circle the gym, trying to awaken her sleep-filled body.

As she rounded a corner, she squinted her eyes against the dark, seeing a red ember glowing bright against the midnight black. As she neared the pinprick of light, trying to discern what it was, she instantly realized _who _it was. _Shit…_She marched steadfastly past, speeding up and not turning to look at him, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious.

"Well, well, look who it is…" His voice was a low growl, slightly hoarse from disuse as it hit her ears. It held a dangerous edge and for some reason, immediately brought the whole 'vampire' thing to mind. _Not _that she liked his voice…at all.

She kept going, unconsciously tugging at the hem of her tank, covering her exposed navel. She _really_ felt uncomfortable.

"Can't ever leave me alone, can you, Summers?" he continued nonchalantly, almost as if he was speaking to himself and didn't really care whether she was paying attention or not.

She was. All of her contrived indifference went out the window as she stopped, whirling to face him. "Leave you alone?" Buffy was indignant and moved back towards him. "You're the one…talking to me!" she sputtered furiously.

"You're the one disrupting my solitude…" he countered, flicking his cigarette to the ground. He swiftly closed the distance between them and looked down at her challengingly, cocking his head to one side. She inhaled sharply and bit her lip, feeling a prickle of real fear for a moment.

Anger flooded her as she glared up at him. "Shut up!" she said finally. "I _was _ignoring you!"

"Yeah," he said with disbelief. "Alright. Be on your merry way then."

There was a long pause in which neither of them moved, as if in some sort of silent battle over who would react first. Buffy stared into his eyes, willing him to back down. Her gaze slowly strayed from his and traveled over the contour of his cheekbones down to the soft curve of his lower lip. Her eyes flickered back to his for a moment, seeing if he noticed her scrutiny, but he was gazing at her just as intently. She swallowed hard.

Almost unaware of what she was doing, she tilted her head back slightly and took a miniscule step forward. He leaned down, almost imperceptibly, and for another millisecond, neither moved. Suddenly, he jerked back, a startled look in his eyes. He roughly moved past her, striding angrily in the direction opposite from which she had come.

Her eyes widened comically when the realization of what had nearly occurred hit her. Hit her so hard that she literally staggered back. She quickly turned and made her way back around the gym, trying to block out any thoughts about what had almost happened.

It should have been quite easy because _nothing _had almost happened, so what was there to think about? Really? Her and Spike arguing? If she thought about_ that_ everytime it happened, she'd never _stop _thinking about Spike. And that would be bad. Because Spike was bad. And not in a good-bad kind of way. Nope, his badness was all around bad, like in the 'Eew, get away from me' sense. So why would she want to think of him? That whole leaning-in thing? She'd _really _been about to punch him in the face. Really. And _he _definitely hadn't wanted to- Wait. Well, there was nothing to want, because nothing had almost happened, so there was nothing for either of them to want. Right? And even if she wanted it, there was no way he did, so it didn't really matter what she wanted, did it?

Her head spun as she went inside, the bright lights only adding to her confusion as she walked slowly over to the spot where Willow waited for her…

* * *

A/N: Hey everybody, I'm _really _sorry this took so long to update. I hope you didn't think I abandoned it, because I've been working on it every chance I get, but with school, band, and all this other stuff I have to do, I've had almost no time whatsoever. I promise I'll try to update more frequently (ESPECIALLY if I get lots of reviews, because those things really are like energy pills, you know…), so please, _please_ let me know what you think, because this is my first AU and I'd really like to know how I'm doing. Thanks!! 


	3. First Day Blues

**Previously on Buffy**: The band has a lock-in and the Scoobies have a grand old time. Spike challenges Buffy to a basketball game, and she beats him...barely. A walk outside leads to a scene bubbling with UST, and Buffy is left bothered and bewildered as she tries to figure out what on _earth_ she was thinking…

* * *

_First day of school, first day of school…what to wear? Sexy, not slutty, yet says, 'I wanna learn.' _Buffy leafed through her closet, trying to pick out just the right ensemble for her senior year debut. Two weeks of summer band didn't constitute as school, and while she wasn't nervous, she was a senior now, and wanted to make a good impression.

Finally, after much deliberation, she picked out a denim mini skirt; mid-thigh, not inappropriate and not overdressed. She selected a while baby doll tee with a glittering blue star in the middle to accompany it and pulled on her nearly brand new white sneakers. She loosely swept up half of her hair, leaving the rest to cascade around her shoulders, framing her face in a fluffy golden cloud.

Buffy stared long and hard into the mirror, did a little wiggle and pirouette, and decided on a thin chain belt and little silver hoop earrings to complete her outfit. She scrutinized herself once more and squinted critically at her makeup. Finally satisfied, she rushed downstairs with her instrument and backpack, trotting into the kitchen where she downed a glass of juice in record time before turning to her mother.

"Hey, Mom," she greeted, subtly adjusting her skirt for Mom-inspection with her perfectly manicured fingers.

"Hi, honey…no band today?"

"Nope. Well, we have class, but Mr. Giles gave us a break." Giles had given them the day off, letting them show up at regular hours instead of their usual 7 am rehearsal. He did this every year on the first day of school, so it was to be expected; but it was still a gesture for which the entire band was grateful.

"Oh," Joyce replied with tea-party interest. "Would you like me to drive you? Or is Xander coming to pick you up?"

Buffy knew her mother was familiar with first day of school routine, but Joyce Summers was a woman of habit. These once a year questions had become as regular to Buffy as clockwork, tedious as they were, so she dutifully replied, "I was gonna walk, but…" The teen smiled hopefully at her mother.

"Right," the older of the two Summers replied with a grin. "Keys." She abruptly set down her mug of steaming coffee and made her way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Buffy stared after her, then pouted as she examined her glittering fingernails. Even as a senior she wasn't allowed to take the car out…talk about unfair. She sighed as she gathered up her things and waited by the door.

* * *

"Bye, Mom!" 

Buffy turned with a final wave and walked up the wide stone steps of Sunnydale High. She pushed through the door and looked around, a bit dazed by the unusually crowded hallways. _Farewell sweet summer…_she thought to herself.

"Hey, Buff!" Willow called from across the hall, waving her down breathlessly. "We've been looking for you."

"Where is everybody?" Buffy asked as she reached her friend, standing her ground against the people ruthlessly jostling her about.

"Band room. I already set up my flute." She used Buffy's shoulder to brace herself against the teeming mass of her peers. "Whaddaya have after band?" she asked with the Willow-enthusiasm only she could muster when it came to matters of school.

Buffy dug in her backpack as she walked, pulling out a rumpled, crinkled schedule. Its sad state quite effectively demonstrated how _not _enthused she was about such matters. She smoothed it out as best as she could and read, "Math. Then computers, lunch, English, Physics…then yay! Kickboxing."

"You're taking kickboxing?"

"Yeah. You?"

Willow shook her head and replied, having already memorized her schedule, "Math…darn it. That's all I have with you."

"Damn…"

They made it to the band room and entered. If possible, the din increased, the raucous beat of drums and cacophony of instruments joining in with the already loud chorus of voices flooding in from the hallway. Willow and Buffy gave up on conversation and parted ways, Buffy fighting her way to her seat. Tara was already there and Buffy greeted her as she quickly pulled out and assembled her clarinet, which she had happily named Mr. Pointy, much to the amusement of all her friends. She'd endured the taunting and the name stuck.

Buffy flipped through her binder for an etude to warm up on, but Mr. Giles appeared and silenced them to announce, "All right everyone, today after warm up we'll move outside to learn the last few pages of our show."

A collective groan rose up from the band, but Buffy dutifully remained silent. _Have to set a good example…_She rolled her eyes, dreading the outdoor heat just as much as anyone, but trying to be 'mature'. They launched into the first notes of the day and Buffy relaxed in her seat, music calming her like nothing else could. She let her eyes wander as she played through the long chords designed to get the band in tune. As her gaze drifted to the left, towards the back of the room, she noticed Spike standing in front of the drumline, nailing out an intense beat on his snare.

She continued to watch him out of the corner of her eye, and her gaze gradually drifted to his face. She was startled when her eyes met his, and she immediately turned around. He was staring at her! Unconsciously, her eyes darted back to him and she was alarmed to find him still watching her.

He gave a small nod in greeting and ran his tongue over his lip, causing her to flush while she unconsciously sat straighter and tried to look pretty, a difficult task given her instrument of choice. _Why didn't I pick flute? _she wondered. Then her senses kicked in and she realized that it was _Spike _who was looking at her and there was no way in hell she cared what he thought. She immediately turned to face Mr. Giles, horribly embarrassed, ignoring the flush that had now spread over her entire body.

In the back of the room, Spike continued drumming, a tiny smirk curving over his lips, his gaze fixed on the slim blonde fidgeting in the front row.

* * *

Buffy sighed when the lunch bell rang; signaling her half hour of freedom was over. She was in no mood for English. She walked into C242, the English class, and was surprised to see that the teacher, Mrs. Laurens, actually looked quite young, with dark hair pulled back into a bun. Buffy smiled at her and took a seat near the front. 

When everyone had settled down, the teacher began to call roll. Buffy zoned out until she heard, "Anne? Anne Summers?"

"Um, its Buffy," she corrected quietly. She hated when teachers did that. Just how long had they been reading scanners anyway?

"Right. Sorry about that."

Buffy zoned out again until those annoying little cards were passed out that asked you your preferred name, hobbies, and career aspirations. Its not like the teachers ever read them anyway, it was more the pressure to feign interest in student's lives than anything else. She filled it out quickly and passed it to the girl in front of her, a snobby brunette named Cordelia Chase. Buffy rolled her eyes when she saw the girl's career aspiration…'professional cheerleader.'

She felt a tap on her shoulder and reached back to take the form. Several masculine fingers brushed her own and she looked at the card. 'William- '

No. She looked down. 'Preferred name: Spike'

She tensed and quickly passed the card up, not even bothering to be nosy and read the rest like she usually did.

_Spike _was behind her? Was someone out to get her? She panicked but then relaxed. She'd just switch seats next time.

"All right, now that I have all you're forms, I'll pass out this seating chart. I want you all to write your names in the slot you're sitting in now. This isn't brain surgery, so figure it out. This will be you're seat for the rest of the semester…"

She rolled her eyes in despair. Today was _not _her day…

* * *

Buffy met Willow in the hall before her next class. "Wills, _guess _who's behind me in English!" 

"Ooh, a cute guy?" The redhead brightened.

"I _wish_. Try annoyingly stupid peroxide guy." Buffy sulked.

"Spike?" Willow paused, then took Buffy's silence as assent. "It _is _Spike, right?"

Another pause.

Buffy's frown deepened, erasing the last of Willow's doubt.

"Oh. Well, that's not too bad. It could have been Jonathan…or Andrew."

"Ugh. Please. Fidel Castrate would be an improvement..."

"Castro?"

"That's the one. That dictatory guy. In Mexico. I'd rather have _him_ behind me than Spike."

"Yeah, only, fourth year English class? Not really his thing; unless, you know, it happens to be his thing. Which I don't think it is…"

"But Spike," Buffy pressed the issue. "Why couldn't I have a lice eating monkey behind me instead?" The bell rang and she began to walk off, continuing to herself, "I _hate _Spike."

* * *

Buffy walked into her house and into the living room where she immediately flopped down on the couch. Not only was Spike in her English class, he was with her in Physics, too. She had a feeling she was going to be very grateful she had kickboxing after two hours with him everyday. Very grateful. 

She lay there, watching the clock. It was 4:15. Willow and Anya were supposed to come over at 5:30. They were gonna have pizza and then head over to the Bronze. Guy hunting. Or rather, guy hunting for Buffy, as she was the only single one.

With a groan, Buffy rolled up onto her feet and went upstairs to get ready, ransacking her closet for the perfect outfit. Skirt. Black. About three inches shorter than the one she'd worn to school. She pulled on a red tube top and added a black denim jacket over it to tone down the ho-factor. Not wanting to tone it down _too _much, however, she knocked it up a notch with some strappy heels and then took a break to call the pizza in. Extra cheese and pepperoni; just the way she liked it…

She had just finished straightening her hair when the doorbell rang. A distracted glance at the clock told her it was 5:17, so either her friends were early or the pizza was here. She was guessing the latter. She bounced down the steps and threw open the door to greet the college age delivery guy. The yummy, drool worthy college age delivery guy…

"Hi. That'll be…$12.32." He looked up. Buffy told herself to close her mouth and stop salivating.

"Just a sec." She ran to the counter where the money lie in wait. Scooping it up, she hurried back to the door and adjusted her hair before handing him fourteen dollars; slyly letting their fingertips brush.

"Thanks…" He offered up the pizza and questioned, "Uh…mind if I ask you your name?"

"No, I wouldn't. I might even answer." She smiled coyly as she took it, admiring the way his sandy brown hair flopped adorably over his eyes. "Buffy. And you?" This guy was definitely delicious.

"Riley." He gestured nervously towards his nametag. "Riley Finn."

"Well, nice to meet you, Riley Finn," she said flirtily, toying with one of her now perfectly straight locks.

"L-likewise."

She gave another coy smile and said, "Well, pizza. No one likes cold pizza. Unless you _do_ happen to like cold pizza but, I don't…"

"Right." He backed away, smiling slightly. "I'll be seeing you," he said hopefully.

"Yeah." She turned and moved to close the door. "I'll uh, be at the Bronze tonight if you wanna show…" she added with one last smile before shutting it and clicking the lock into place. She set the pizza on the counter and went back up to her room to apply her makeup.

Eyeliner, check. Triple thick mascara, check. Lipliner, check. Very berry gloss, check. Coal eyeshadow with sparkles…no. She frowned and quickly pulled it out and smeared some across her upper lashline, then stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Perfect. It made her look sultry…seductive. _Guys of the Bronze beware_, she thought.

Just then the bell rang again. She walked down to open the door.

Anya and Willow waited on the other side; Anya in low-slung jeans and a sparkly backless top, Willow in a knee length denim skirt and black short sleeved top. "Hey, guys," Buffy greeted. "Cheesy goodness in the kitchen..."

"Yum," Willow said. "All that marching made me hungry."

Willow, that was _hours _ago. You can't possibly be hungry from this morning. I saw you eat that peanut butter sandwich at lunch," Anya reasoned.

"True. But who can resist the allure of pizza? Plus, I've gotta get my energy up so I can boogie down!" Willow grinned happily.

They walked in and went to the kitchen, opening the box eagerly. "Buffy, I love your outfit," Anya said as she bit into her first slice of pizza. "It's very…flag-girlish. In fact, without the jacket, I could easily mistake you for one of them…"

"Thanks Anya," Buffy laughed, not at all offended by her friend's bluntness. "It's the look I was going for. I'm on the man hunt tonight."

"Good for you, Buffy," Willow praised. "Get yourself a guy. As for me, I can only browse. No purchases for Willow. But that could be because I already got the best one. On sale too…"

Buffy listened for a minute as the other two argued over the merits of Oz and Xander, then ventured, "Speaking of…the guy that delivered the pizza was a cutie. Plus," she twirled some cheese around her finger. "I think he was in college."

"College guys are always a plus; what with the sex experience and extra cash. Name?" Anya looked interested.

"Riley Finn. He seemed nice. I told him we were going Bronzin'. Think he'll show?"

"I'll bet. Ooh, I wanna see him." Willow seemed excited now, too.

"But…I don't know. He was probably just being polite…" She seemed eager to change the subject. "You guys wanna head out now? It's almost 6:30. Mom wants me home by nine."

"Nine?" Anya scoffed. "Did you remind her that we're seniors now? Your mom is seriously overprotective."

"I know," Buffy sighed. "But there's _no _changing her mind, so we should get going."

The girls threw the empty box in the trash and breezed out the door.

* * *

Guys, I know the wait was forever; and for a pretty unsatisfactory chapter, but school is keeping me constantly stressed out and I have zero writing time. I'm so sorry. Don't give up on me…this will get finished, I swear. I work on it whenever I have a chance, so please read and review to keep me motivated. I grovel before you all… 


	4. Only A Dare

**Previously on Buffy: **Buffy gets through her first day of school, having to put up with Spike way more than she'd like to. Afterwards, Anya and Willow come over for pizza, and decide that going Bronzin' is the best way to cure back to school blues…

* * *

As the three girls made their way through the crowded din of the club, they grinned. The Bronze was _packed _tonight.

"Why couldn't Tara come?" Buffy shouted over the noise.

"You know her mom!" Willow yelled back, rushing forward to seize a table that had just opened up. "School nights are a no go for fun as far as that woman's concerned!"

The girls sat down and looked around, trying to see who else had decided to show. Suddenly, Buffy grabbed Anya's arm and hissed, "It's him! Pizza guy! He's here!"

"Where?" Willow looked around, turning her gaze to where Buffy was staring. "The cowboy type one? Isn't he kinda…tall?"

"Yeah, but he's cute. Plus, its not like I wanna marry the guy!" She paused, and then added as an afterthought, "And he's not a cowboy."

He spotted her and nervously made his way over. "Buffy? Hey…" He looked at Willow and Anya, giving a small nod.

"Riley Finn," she said flirtily by way of greeting, a giddy smile on her face. "This is Willow. Anya." Buffy gestured individually to each of her friends. The three greeted each other politely.

"You, uh, wanna dance?" Riley turned his gaze back to her, a hopeful look in his brown, puppy-dog eyes.

"Sure…" She rose and followed him out to the dance floor, turning to give her two friends an excited grin.

* * *

She returned to the table a half hour later, face shining with sweat. "_Hot_!" she exclaimed simply, removing her jacket and reveling in the cool air that immediately hit her back.

"Or is it just him?" Willow smiled knowingly.

Buffy lowered her voice in a conspirational whisper, "_So_ not him. The boy could _not _dance. And he's about as exciting as a table lamp."

Anya snorted. "Well, I could've told you that. With his face? Big, hulking…_so _unlike Xander." She toyed with her straw, looking bored. Suddenly her eyes snapped to Buffy's face. "But you can't have Xander," she clarified. "He's mine."

"Gotcha." Buffy rolled her eyes.

"I'm bored," Willow sighed. "Just the thought of going out there makes me…eek." She looked towards the dance floor packed with the gyrating bodies of other teens.

"Let's play Truth or Dare," Anya suggested.

"Here? Now?" Buffy looked skeptical.

"Yes. To both. It'll be fun…"

"I'll go first," Willow said, suddenly eager. "Anya. Truth or Dare?"

"Truth. You're crazy if you think for one minute that I'm getting up."

Willow thought for a moment then brightened. Leaning forward she asked, "Are you a virgin?"

Anya thought for a moment, then replied, "Well, technically. Unless you count oral sex and…touching. Xander's very good at-"

"Ok! Overshare!" Willow blushed.

"Buffy," Anya said, moving on, oblivious to what affect her statement had had on the redhead. "Truth or Dare?"

Buffy thought, chewing on her lower lip. "I'm feelin' brave. Dare."

"I dare you to…" Anya looked around the club, trying to find something particularly mortifying. As a trumpet player, nothing seemed to bother her and she was exceptionally loud and outgoing. She expected others to be the same. Sadly, this wasn't the case. Finally, she settled on a target. "…ask Spike to dance!"

"Huh?" The other girl was indignant. "_What? _No! He's not even here!"

Anya's gaze was fixated on a dark corner of the building. "Oh, he's here," Anya said wickedly. "And you can't just ask. You actually have to get him to dance with you…It shouldn't be hard."

"Well, all the specifics don't matter, because I'm _not _doing it. No way." Buffy sipped defiantly on her soda.

"Oh, come on," Anya coaxed. "You can't pretend he's not reasonably attractive. I'd do it myself if I didn't have Xander. Plus, it's a dare. And, if I recall correctly, Buffy Summers _never _backs off of a dare…"

Buffy glared, an internal battle raging. "Fine." She shuddered. "But I'm _so _gonna get you back." She stood slowly, straightening her tube top and looking about as excited as if she were about to go dance naked in the middle of the floor with a huge man-eating python wrapped around her. Oh, wait, she wasn't Britney Spears. Never mind. "Oh, god…" she moaned.

She clicked over to the darkened corner where Spike was smoking, straightening her skirt as she did so. Her stomach did a flip-flop.

He noticed her approach, and even in the dark she could make out the sight of him rolling his eyes in dismay. "My, my…decided to grace me with your presence, have you?" he remarked in aggravation.

"H-hi…" _Must remain civil, must remain civil…_she reminded herself.

He watched her warily, dropping his cigarette to the floor and putting it out with the toe of his boot.

Buffy decided to cut to the chase. All the lingering was getting uncomfortable. "You, uh, wanna…dance?" she asked meekly, her cheeks already crimson.

"With you?" he smirked, taken aback, emotions flitting across his features as he tried to figure what she was about. After a moment he replied nonchalantly, "Not particularly."

"Come on, just one song…it won't be…please?" _How pathetic do I sound? I'm practically begging the idiot to dance with me…_She groaned inwardly.

"What's in it for me?" He looked amused, a teasing glint in his eye.

"You know what? Forget it. It's not like you can dance anyway…Loser," she muttered as an afterthought. She turned to walk away, but suddenly there was a strong hand on her arm.

"What?" he demanded, pulling her to face him.

"I _said_," she jerked her arm away, ignoring the strange heat that had gathered there. "_You _can't dance. _Loser_."

"That's it, Blondie," he growled, roughly grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her out onto the crowded dance floor. "Show _you _who can't dance…"

Once they were in the middle of the throng of people, he pulled her against him and began to move, staring intently into her eyes as the slow suggestive beat surrounded them both. One of his hands circled lazily around her waist while the other ghosted down the side of her arm.

Buffy's breath caught in her throat when he unexpectedly ground his hips against hers. She forced herself to relax and slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, struggling to control her breathing. _What's with me? _she asked herself headily. _It's only Spike..._

They swayed slowly in time to the final notes of the song. _Thank god we came near the end…_She looked towards her table, barely visible through the large crowd, as she stepped out of Spike's arms. Anya glared at her, her unspoken message clear: _It has to be a **whole **song…_

Buffy sighed and looked up at him, not wanting to ask again. She was spared as a slightly faster song came on. She began to move, thinking, _It's not _**_my _**_fault if he leaves…_

She danced happily, shimmying her hips a little, extremely surprised when she felt persuasive hands on her waist as he came up behind her. She felt his breathing ruffle her hair and continued to sway to the beat, raising her hands in the air, then sliding them seductively down her torso.

As if on cue, Spike commented, "Nice top, Summers…" A shiver ran down her spine at the feel of his whisper against her ear, but she shook it off. _Stupid Spike. What's he doing looking at my shirt anyway…?_ She ignored the part of her that reminded herself of the reason she'd worn it. To attract guys.

_Not annoying guys like Spike…_she reasoned.

Buffy pushed her thoughts away and gave in to the music. She dipped low then slid back up, undulating her entire body against his lean form. His fingers pressed into her hips now and she placed her hands over his as she leaned back against him, swaying her hips suggestively and turning her head to the side. The second the column of her throat was exposed to him, he leaned down, nestling his head slightly in the crook of her neck. She threw her head back against his shoulder and reached up over her head to slide her hands along the back of his neck and over his shoulders, grinding back against him in time to the beat.

Buffy automatically stiffened when she felt his hands slide down over her hips to the hem of her skirt. His calloused fingers briefly toyed with the end and she shuddered in involuntarily pleasure when his hands brushed her thighs, but then they just as quickly traveled back up.

Finally, the song ended and she pulled away, turning to face him. The places where his hands had been held traces of lingering warmth and Buffy couldn't help wanting to feel them on her once more. Wait…no she didn't. She dusted her skirt absently. Yuck.

She looked at him and noticed his silent appraisal of her outfit. The dance floor had cleared some, giving her room to breathe, and she demanded, "What?"

"Nothin'." He looked her up and down once more, his gaze stopping directly at her chest.

Her eyes widened and she crossed her arms, which only served to accentuate her cleavage. "Stop looking at me, you…pig!"

"What? 's not every day the one person you hate asks you to dance. 'm just seein' if you were worth the effort." He grinned cockily at her.

"It was-" _Right, not supposed to tell…_ "-just a dance!" she cried.

"You want me," he smirked. "Or is it just a habit of yours to ask people you loathe to dance? You wanted my hands all over your hot, tight, little body," he purred. "You loved every second. You think I don't know that?" He stared at her, the azure depths of his eyes boring into her and rendering Buffy speechless.

He gave her one last raise of his eyebrow before he turned and strode to the door, walking until he was stopped by a pretty brunette with blinding teeth, tiny clothes, and a tendency to brush his arm with every word she spoke. Buffy glared at the girl, then at him.

_He's such an asshole! _she thought. _Arrogant jerk. Anya is so dead…_With that, she stormed back to the table, staring determinedly at Anya. "Truth or Dare?"

* * *

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Yes? No? Let me know by reviewing! Reviews are my sustenance and you people are starving me here! If you wanna see something new, leave a review! Please…? Anyway, this chapter was my Christmas present to you all. Hope you liked. Happy Holidays! 


	5. A Day In the Life

**Previously on Buffy: **Buffy, Willow, and Anya are out Bronzing when the latter suggests a game of Truth or Dare. Buffy gamely agrees, even when the dares turn…interesting. Spuffy danceage ensues, and just when it seems they are connecting, one of them has to say something to mess it all up, as usual. The morning after…

* * *

Buffy rubbed her eyes as she slid into the passenger seat of Xander's car the next morning. "How come you never pick up Anya?" she asked, still fighting the urge to sleep; one that arose from waking at the ungodly hour of 5 am. _Note to self: Bronzing the night before early morning band, not good._

"She likes to drive. Something about 'gesturing emphatically' at other drivers…" He grinned. That was Xander, eternally perky no matter what time of day.

"Of course…" They traveled the rest of the way in silence, Buffy's mind drifting peacefully. When her thoughts landed on the events of the night before, she groaned. "Xander, Public-humiliation isn't Anya's middle name, by any chance, is it?"

"No, actually her full name's Anya Christina Emanuella J-," he paused, "and that's _not _what you were talking about, is it?"

"No," Buffy replied dryly.

He looked at her curiously.

"_Guess_ what she had me do last night."

"Does it involve the three of you, strip poker, and an endless supply of whipped cream?" he asked hopefully.

"No, but it does involve me, dancing, and someone who uses an endless supply of bleach."

He looked at her, and then it clicked. "Wait. You didn't…"

"I did. All because of a game of Truth or Dare initiated by our favorite trumpet player."

Xander snickered. "You and Spike…and dancing." The snicker turned into a guffaw. "Why did I miss this again?"

"You know, you're just playing a not-so-nice role in the Buffy torture session here…"

"Sorry…" He continued to chuckle as he pulled into a parking space.

They walked quietly through the morning air to the back entrance of the band room. Not even the janitor arrived this early, hence the entryway through the school was inaccessible because the main doors were still locked.

As they entered the brightly lit room, they sleepily walked over to their respective seats and set up their instruments. Buffy played a quick scale and looked over to see Anya talking animatedly to the freshman they had seen at Willy's. Dawn?

She noticed the girl paying rapt attention yet occasionally sneaking glances over at the percussion section. Buffy glanced over towards the door she had just come through, trying to see what the girl was so keen on looking at, only to see the bleached wonder sprawled in a chair talking to Oz and one of the other drummers. She sighed. Of course. Freshmen were so _ignorant_.

Oz stood, taking the quads and walking out with Willow as she passed. Buffy too headed for the door, walking behind Dawn. She was forced to stop with the brunette as Devon, the bass drummer, addressed her, giving a quick motion with his fingers.

"Hey, Spike," the boy grinned; his brown eyes alight with amusement. "It's your admirer."

Spike leered at the girl, who stared at him wide-eyed. "Hey, uh…" He stretched out his foot to block her path. "Will a 20 cover me?" He held up the cash, smirking, as his eyes unabashedly roamed over her body.

Dawn looked at him in confusion, then blanched as she caught onto the innuendo. Buffy's eyes narrowed.

"'m just playin', pet," he continued when she didn't respond, her cheeks now flushed a bright red. "For you," he lowered his voice seductively, "it's free. And I've been told I make it good…"

The girl began to stutter. Buffy grabbed her arm, kicking Spike's leg with all the force she could muster.

"Ow!" He jerked it back, turning his attention to Buffy for the first time.

"You're such an ass, Spike!" she spit.

"Yeah, you'd know, wouldn't you? Considerin' how you were rubbin' yours all over me last night, an' all!" he retorted.

A round of 'ooh!'s, laughs, and high-fives were exchanged among his drummer minions as Buffy's face flamed, but she ignored him, escaping into the early morning light with Dawn. Buffy released the brunette's arm as they made their way to the football field. "Don't listen to them," she advised. "Drummers are idiots. If you let everything they said get to you, you'd be a basket case."

"Thanks." The girl smiled gratefully. As they walked together, Dawn broke the silence by asking, "Were you?"

"Huh?"

"Were you? What he said?" she questioned, unable to bring herself to repeat his exact words.

Buffy looked confused for a moment, then realized what the other girl was asking. "No. No way," Buffy said. "We danced, but it was a dare…ugh, I can't stand him. He's a jerk."

"Oh…" Dawn replied, chewing on her lower lip. "I- I think he likes you."

"_What_?" Buffy was incredulous.

"He only started being mean to me after he saw you there…I think he likes to make you mad."

"I think so, too. Hence the: 'he's a jerk'."

"You don't like him? At all?"

"What part of 'I can't stand him' don't you get?" _Why am I getting defensive? She's just a kid…_ "Sorry…" she muttered quickly.

"It's ok," Dawn replied, looking at her inquiringly.

Anxious to escape her scrutiny, Buffy continued, "We, uh, should get to our warm up circles…"

Dawn nodded as Buffy walked away, somewhat put-off by her new theory. Why couldn't he like _her_?

From what she'd heard, Buffy and Spike had been sworn enemies since the first week of high school. Once, they'd very nearly gotten in a fistfight.

Then why, when she saw them together, did it seem like they both lit up with this sort of excitement…this sort of natural high of being in each other's presence? Like they couldn't wait to have it out again? To Dawn at least, the whole "enemy" thing seemed like a load of crap…She wanted to ask Buffy, but knew the other girl wouldn't think much of her after that, and Dawn kind of admired her. True, she was also insanely jealous of her; but if Buffy could attract guys like Spike, Dawn wanted to be around her. Maybe some of her guy-magnet mojo would rub off. Maybe…

-----

Buffy came to her circle of clarinet players and called out, "Ok, let's play the warm up, then I'll tune you…"

They played, and then Buffy fixed the few, mostly freshmen, who were out of tune, all the while thinking of what Dawn had said. Spike? Like her? No way. That girl was seriously delusional as far as Buffy was concerned. She would even go far enough as to say that Dawn deserved to have her rantings published in the 'Everyone Thinks We're Insane-o's Home Journal'. That's how far-fetched her ideas were. Spike and liking her. Ha!

Soon after that, though, she was forced from her troubled thoughts as Giles came out and said, "All right, everybody…lets take it from the very beginning…"

There was a flurry of movement as everyone ran to their places and Buffy tucked away her scorn for another day—or at least for after rehearsal. The drum majors, Amy and Betty, scurried to their respective platforms and snapped, "Band. Ten. Hut!"

"Pride!" came the resounding echo of over a hundred voices, coming to attention.

Buffy shook off the sleep that still pervaded her senses as another grueling morning practice began…

-----

Buffy heaved a sigh as she walked into English and flopped down in her seat. Her day had been nothing but badness. First, she had stumbled during the second song of the show, and though only her fellow clarinets had seen her, Tara had told the gang and she'd been teased mercilessly when they'd all gone for breakfast. As if it was her fault she had been all distracted.

Comprehension had soared blissfully over her head when they'd started some ridiculous Trig functions in math, and to top it off, her computer had crashed during the period right before lunch. Speaking of lunch, it had been the only bright spot in her very gray day. Hopefully, things would only improve from there.

As class got settled, a voice murmured from behind her, "Hey, Summers…"

"What?" she snapped. Her gray day was quickly becoming a lovely shade of black…Anytime Spike talked to her she usually ended up wanting to hit something.

"You didn't do your homework?"

Homework? Her mind flashed back to yesterday:

"_And don't forget! Your short analysis on one of Shakespeare's works is due next time…no exceptions!"_

"No," she mumbled, her heart sinking even further.

"Bad girl…" he whispered throatily in her ear, his breath tickling the hairs at the nape of her neck. She felt his knee brush her lower back through the slit in her chair as his fingers lightly skimmed the curve of her shoulder…

She tensed as a wave of heat flooded through her, his words sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core. She jerked around to look at him and ask what the hell he thought he was doing, but he was already scribbling away in his English notebook.

He hadn't been flirting. She shook off the disappointment that touched her and said to herself, _Good._

_-----_

By the end of the day, she'd had about as much Spike as she could handle. For a lifetime. Unfortunately, fate didn't seem to think so. Lovely Ms. Laurens had now paired them up for an English project. Due by Monday. The woman was insane, there was no question. Homework the first day? A project the second? Pairing her with _Spike_? Yes. That woman had _serious_ issues.

Questions of insanity aside however, this meant full research mode; at his house, not hers. There was no way he was coming to hers…It also meant a weekend of putting up with _him_. Goody. She'd been given directions and instructions to be there by four during their Physics class, the events of which she would not go into, and now she had to find his house. But first, to her locker…

The band room had its own locker room, not really meant for changing since it was co-ed. The only ones to do so were the flag girls and some of the guys. Buffy had no objection whatsoever to shirtless boys, and she was used to the skank team changing in public, so it was no big. As she left said locker room after school, it dawned on her that she was rideless. Her eyes widened at the realization and she raced off in the direction she'd seen Spike go after he left the band room.

She prayed that two minutes wasn't enough time for him to have left and ran outside to search the parking lot. Apparently it wasn't. There he was all right, leaning on his car with skank number thirty thousand looking awfully cozy between his legs. Her cheeks reddened slightly, but she staved off the blush and stepped forward, coughing pointedly. "Sorry to interrupt the smooch-fest, but…I don't have a car."

He raised his eyes, annoyed, as Ms. I'm-A-Horny-Slutbag removed her hands from under his coat. "I'm busy here, Summers. Does it look as if your lack of ride concerns me?"

She glared. "Does your English grade? 'cause if you wanna pass, then I think it concerns you very much."

He rolled his eyes and looked apologetically at Ms. Slut of Sluttown, USA. "I'll call you?" he murmured intimately.

Buffy's stomach twisted. He never talked to _her_ like that.

_Not _that she wanted him to, because that was just 'ugh'.

The skank ran a finger down Spike's chest and smiled, nodding, then turned and pushed her way past Buffy, who contemplated kicking the crap out of her, then settled for throwing her things into the passenger side of the Desoto.

Spike climbed into the driver's side and slammed the door, gunning the ignition. "You're the bleeding thorn in my bleeding side, you know that?" he demanded as he drove out of the parking lot.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Buffy quipped angrily. "Did I just ruin your chance of having yet another perfectly blissful one night stand?"

"Someone sounds jealous…"

"Jealous?" She rolled her eyes. "Did it ever occur to you that you're _not _God's gift? Or do you find it impossible to imagine that not every female on the planet wants to jump into bed with you?"

"Bed? That part's optional, luv. But actually I was referring to the fact that you envy my sex life. If you want to be a part of it though, I completely understand."

Her face reddened and her mouth opened and closed uselessly before she managed an unconvincing "Eew!" and turned to look out the window. Spike grinned over at her, thinking, _Perhaps this won't be so bad after all…_

* * *

Thanks for having the patience to wait for my lazy ass to put up another chapter. I hope you all liked this one; if you did, let me know by reviewing. Thanks again!! 


	6. Homework and Layers

**Previously on Buffy: **Buffy's school day is extra Spiked! and just when she thinks she can't handle another second, they're paired for an English project. Life's about to get _way _hectic. When they meet to start on the project he's macking on yet another bimbo, another argument ensues, and-finally- they head to his place to get to work...

* * *

Buffy was stunned silent at the sight of Spikes' house—if you could even call it a house. She had expected a dinky apartment or something, not a Bill Gates-esque mansion.

Spike pulled up in the driveway, unperturbed by her shock, and climbed out of the car. Buffy did the same, still somewhat wide-eyed, and somehow managed to murmur, "Nice place."

"Thanks," he replied as he started towards the door.

Buffy followed slowly, looking around. The grass was perfectly kempt, a lush green carpet that made her want to flop down and close her eyes, possibly neverto getup. To the far left, in the near middle of the yard, a weeping willow stood, its long tendrils hanging majestically over the ground.

Looking down the street, she noticed that this was the only yard that had such beautiful landscaping; the other homes, by no means unimpressive, were adorned with rock or mere cement. The few that did have grass seemed to lack the serenity and splendor of Spike's own yard.

The house itself was magnificent, two stories, tan brick with white shutters, and a flower bed that ran along the side wall and then curved, presumably running all the way to the back. It was filled with daisies, tulips, roses…but her favorite were the morning glories that snaked up from the ground and climbed the wall, hazy hues of purple-blue and white with hints of yellow dotted among the slender vines.

Spike noticed her gaze and said, "Mum likes gardening. She's home all day…bit of a hobby."

"Oh, you- you live with your Mom?"

"No, Summers," he replied as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. "I'm eighteen sodding years old. Bought the place myself."

She ignored his sarcasm and followed. Truth was, she'd never thought of Spike having parents. He was just rude, arrogant Spike. _I feel sorry for **his **Mom…_

To her left was the living room: extravagant couches beckoning to her, the intricate rug that lay on the spotless tile classic in its beauty. The light streaming though the front window illuminated the paintings on the wall, and from somewhere in the room a grandfather clock chimed four o clock…

"William?" a woman's voice called from somewhere to her right. "William, is that you?"

A small woman appeared, wrapped in a blue silk robe, her hair pinned up simplistically. This was the woman who had to put up with _Spike_? Buffy felt a twinge of pity as her eyes took in the slight frame.

"Lo, Mum," Spike murmured gently, walking over and bending down to gently press a kiss to her cheek. "How was your day?"

Was Spike being…sweet? Impossible. But there it was, that voice again…soft, kind, completely unlike the Spike she knew.

"Oh, lovely, my William. I was just finishing my tea in the parlor. Would you care- oh!" she said, noticing Buffy for the first time. "Who is this lovely young lady?"

Buffy smiled warmly at her.

"Oh, right. Uh, Mum, this is Buffy. Summers. From band…she's here to work on an English project."

"Buffy!" The older woman smiled, taking her hand. "How very nice to meet you! What do you play, dear?"

"Clarinet."

"How nice. And you enjoy it? You do well?"

"I really enjoy it. I'm first chair. Band's kinda…my life." Buffy smiled awkwardly.

"That's wonderful." Spike's mom smiled again, seemingly delighted to hear what she had to say. She backed up and said, "Well, I'll leave you two to your studies. Be sweet, my dearest." She touched Spikes arm gently and he smiled after her as she disappeared back into the room from where she had come.

"Your mom's…nice," Buffy ventured.

"Yeah," he muttered, his kind demeanor immediately fading as he led her neither to the left nor right, but straight ahead. Buffy followed, somewhat disappointed that she didn't get to see the living room or the parlor that his mother had spoken of. This house reminded her of carriages and balls, beautiful dresses and pretty hairstyles…a Victorian mansion. She smiled wistfully.

At the end of the wide hallway, there was another room to the right and stairs on the left. He ascended and she followed him up into another hallway carpeted in lush blue and, finally, into his room.

It was only slightly bigger than her room, she noted with a sense of comfort as she stood in the doorway. The large plush bed directly across from her was covered in a black bedspread, and rock and heavy metal posters plastered the walls. Against the wall to her left was a desk with a computer and another doorway with a bookshelf in the far left corner. There was a window above the bed that looked off the side of the house, and to her right was a closet, along with another window against the far right wall that looked out over the driveway.

The clock on his nightstand read 4:12.

"So," Buffy attempted again. "Book of poems by Monday…that's gonna be pretty tough."

"Not if we stop blathering on about it and get started…" Spike replied.

Agitated, Buffy moved to sit on his desk chair as he sat on the floor, leaning back against his bed. "So…" she was determined to get this over with. "Eleven poems, all with a theme. We should start by picking a theme."

He rolled his eyes, shrugging his black coat from his shoulders and shifting so that he could pull it out from under him to toss it into the corner. He flipped on the TV. "Any brilliant ideas yet?" he sneered disinterestedly.

"No. And you know, that's _really _not helping…" She stood and marched over, turning it back off, only to have him flip it on again. She slammed her palm into the 'Power' button and stood in front of the TV, rendering the remote useless. "Now," she said briskly with a hint of defiance. "Themes."

With something akin to a growl, he rose to his feet. "Move."

She unconsciously stood taller, aware of the good seven inches he had on her, and decided to say something to mollify him: "Just think: the sooner we finish, the sooner I leave…"

He paused, contemplating this, then shrugged, sitting down on the bed in resignation. She fought down her smile of victory and moved aside. _That _would show him…

The TV clicked on.

She whirled on him, eyes narrowing in a fashion that would have caused a lesser man to quail under her gaze. "Dammit, Spike!" Stalking over, she put out her hand expectantly. "Hand it over."

He held it back from her grasp and purred, "My remote, my house, my rules…"

"My _ass_," she retorted, leaning over him to retrieve it. She braced her hand against the mattress on one side of his thigh and extended the other over him to grab at the remote. Just a little…farther…She gave a tiny grunt of exertion as she stretched over him.

On instinct, he extended his leg to knock hers aside, causing her to lose her precarious balance and collapse atop him, shrieking indignantly. Her weight knocked him back and she lay atop his chest for a moment before pushing herself up, only to fall back down, their limbs jumbled in an ungainly heap. The remote fell to the floor, forgotten. She scrambled up once more, untangled herself from him, sat up to straddle him, and sputtered, "Jerk!"

"If you're that eager to have me in my bed, just ask…" he growled, his hand surreptitiously creeping up her thigh.

"You- kicked me!"

"And _you _were there, practically forcing me to stare at your titties, begging me to-"

Buffy gasped, her face flaming, but hands never leaving their resting point against his chest. "I _so _was not! I hate you!"

"That the reason you're still on top of me, luv?"

She realized he was right and reeled back, stumbling to her feet in indignation. "I have to…go to the bathroom."

He sat up, trying to hide his amusement as he tilted his head towards the door next to the bookshelf. She ran in and shut the door.

That arrogant… _"If you're that eager to have me in my bed, just ask…" _Damn him! What made him think for a minute that she'd want to-

For a second she remembered the feel of him lying beneath her, her thighs clamped around his hips…The image of him naked flashed through her mind. She pushed it aside.

Anya's words…_ "I'll bet he has a large penis." _She groaned…_why _was she thinking about Spike?

She pushed all thoughts aside and turned on the water to rinse her hands, drying them on the fluffy black towel, then stepped out, trying to appear nonplussed.

He raised his eyes at her entrance and said, "Sex."

She froze, color rising in her cheeks. "W-_what_?" she stammered, the image flashing through her mind once again…_He gasped beneath her as she rode him, her head thrown back…_How had he known what she was thinking?

"Sex. Our theme…sex. We can write about sex…"

She sighed. Right. _That. _

This was going to be a _long _night…

* * *

Four hours later, they had come up with exactly…nothing. "Spike, this is useless…This is _worse _than useless. This is pathetic. Beyond pathetic, even. I want to go home." 

"Go then," he answered. "No one's stopping you."

"Well, I need a ride," she answered, a "duh" evident in her tone.

His eyes widened. "I think not. I'm not wastin' my precious gasoline carting your ass around town."

She flopped back onto the blue carpet. They'd been sitting on the floor for several hours now, bickering ceaselessly. "Well then, I guess I'm stuck here with you." She made a show of getting comfortable.

"Guess you are…" He thought for a moment. "On second thought, go get in the car."

"What? No. We need to finish."

He sighed. She was insufferable. "What happened to 'I wanna go home'?" he mimicked in a whiny, girly, American accent.

"Well I sure as hell don't wanna come back!"

"Point taken."

"And I don't talk like that."

"Yeah, you do."

"Do not."

"Bloody well do."

She sighed. "I'm gonna go get some water."

"Don't get lost, now. Might never see you again. And we all know what a shame that'd be."

She gave him a saccharine smile and pointed a certain finger skyward as she eased out the door.

His eyes widened. He grinned. Saucy little bitch.

* * *

Buffy crept down the dark stairs, unable to shake the feeling that she should be quiet in the giant house. Part of her was afraid something would jump out at her, but the other part argued that if it did, she'd just kick its ass… 

She walked down the large hallway towards the front door and turned into the living room she'd so wanted to see earlier. It was eerily beautiful in the moonlight, everything basking in a sort of midnight radiance. There was an enormous fireplace that she would barely have to duck to fit into, and on the mantle were beautiful crystal doves, the hard lines of the glass not detracting from the soft beauty. The room stretched even further, a big screen TV and sound system at the far end, sweeping her up from the illusion that this was eighteenth century England and depositing her right back into the present day.

Buffy backed out of the room, feeling like an intruder, and walked through the dining room into the kitchen to search the cabinets for a glass. She found one, quickly filling it with water in an effort to get back upstairs.

On the other hand, Spike wanted her lost, so…She wiped her lip, set down the glass, and went back through the dining room into the hall and followed it down to where the stairs were. Instead of going back up, she entered the third room she had seen earlier on her way up to Spike's bedroom.

Almost the entire back wall was made of glass, allowing her to look out over the backyard, which was lined with bushes. In the middle was a gigantic pool complete with hot tub. _Maybe I should be nice to Spike just to get some time in there…_she mused eagerly.

Then she focused on the room itself. Next to the glass lined wall there stood a white grand piano. There was also a drum set in the opposite corner, but Buffy paid it no mind, her eyes glued to the piano. Looking back over her shoulder, she stepped towards it and plucked randomly at some keys. She'd always wanted to play…

She thought about her clarinet and started out on different notes of the scale until she clumsily plunked out 'Mary Had A Little Lamb'. She smiled with immense pride.

"_What _in the bleeding hell are you doing?" His voice ringing out from behind her caused her to freeze.

She turned. He was leaning in the doorway, arms folded over his chest as he looked at her, exasperated.

"Getting water?" she squeaked, embarrassed at having been caught. Then she asked, "Why are _you _down here anyway?"

"'s my bleeding house!" he reminded her. "You were gone a good ten minutes, thought maybe you'd hit yourself on the sink…died."

She ignored him and said, unable to contain her glee, "Well I learned a song."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. Listen." She pulled out the bench and sat, carefully picking out the notes with her index finger. When she was done, she beamed up at where hehad cometo stand beside her.

"Beautiful," he commented snidely.

She ignored the sarcasm and said, "You try."

"No thanks."

"Please?" she begged, scooting over. "You live with it. I'll bet you can play something." She fumbled through 'Mary Had A Little Lamb' again to show him. "Or," she turned back. "Maybe not…I mean, being a drummer and all…"

He sat down next to her. "I'd like to see you play drums…"

"Well, I won't-" She stopped as he placed his hands over the keys and effortlessly began to play. A bit stunned, she moved over to allow him more room.

It was a waltz of some kind, light and dancing at first, then turning dark. Buffy held her breath, watching his fingers dance over the keys as the music swelled over her, enveloping her…consuming her in its majesty. The sleeve of his red over-shirt brushed her arm as he moved up the piano. It tingled.

Her eyes glazed as she listened to the haunting melody…she was enraptured…never wanted it to end. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled with anticipation with each chord his hands struck. _Nice hands…_the non-music obsessive part of her brain thought. Her eyes flickered up to his face; it was focused, intent, but not as if he were struggling. It was more of a- thoughtful focus, she mused. Whatever it was, it was damn hot.

Her attention turned from him, however, and refocused on the sounds. They were too beautiful not to listen to. Breathtaking. After a moment she even closed her eyes.

Slowly, little by little, the music faded, coming to a halt as time reasserted itself, the silence once again rejoining darkness as it settled over the room. Her eyes opened.

Moments later, Buffy managed to speak. "Wow."

He was silent. Cracked his knuckles.

"Where'd you- learn to play like that?" She was still a bit breathless.

"My mum. She, erm, loves music. Reason I'm in band…"

"Oh."

They sat until the silence was unbearable. "So, you, uh, want that ride home now?"

She nodded.

* * *

Buffy tilted her head back under the hot spray of the shower. To say she was confused was an understatement. Tonight she'd seen a side of Spike that was completely new to her. It was baffling.

First he was a complete sweetheart to his mom, and though he'd been a jerk when they were in his room, he'd played her that song. Mostly to prove her wrong, but still…

Spike had layers? Like a cake? A big, layery, Spikey cake with icing on it? Her sleepy mind giggled. Spike with icing. She could lick it all- no. Spike and lickage? Ugh. Non-mixy things…

She nodded to herself as she shut off the water. Non-mixy indeed…

* * *

Hey guys, another long time no write, right? Sorry. I wish I could update more often, especially when I get your lurvly reviews, but I just haven't got the time; I have to have a novel read and an essay done by Monday, along with an in depth analysis of the damn thing, and I haven't even started reading it because of the guilt I feel for not updating in so long...With that in mind, take pity and be grateful by reviewing...please? 


	7. Poemy Goodness

**Previously on Buffy: **Buffy goes to Spike's house for an impromptu study session, where they talk, fight, banter…the usual. She also uncovers some hidden talents and a soft side…whatever will happen next?

* * *

The rest of the week passed slowly, the highlights of her days being kickboxing and band. She was getting really good at kickboxing; when they had sparring, she was able to beat most everyone. She took great pride in this fact and was mildly disappointed but also greatly challenged when the only one able to take her down was the last girl they paired her against: Glory.

Glory however, had an unfair advantage, or so Buffy told herself as she walked out of class on Friday. She was repeating senior year…probably from inhaling too many fumes from those bad home perms. She'd taken the class last year Buffy had only been in there a week. So there. Give her some time and…Buffy smiled as images of kicking the snobby bitch's ass flashed through her mind.

She sighed as she made her way to the bandroom, thinking of the weekend ahead. Tonight was movie night. For some odd reason, there was no football game scheduled, so she and her friends had decided to make the most of it. She was meeting the gang at the theater, then sometime tomorrow she had to drop by Spike's and pick up the poems he'd insisted on doing himself so that she could make a cover for them. She had to practice, make mom-time, and then…delightful nothingness. There was an extra bounce in her step as she made her way home, anxious to get her responsibilities out of the way so that she could sink blissfully into the tub of teenage idleness. TV and sleep, she was on her way…

Buffy made her way across her front lawn and up the steps into her house where she quickly ran upstairs to change into some form fitting black jeans and a sleeveless v-neck top with a frilly low-cut neckline. It was sheer pink and Buffy pulled her hair up with a pink band to match. She quickly did her nails in the same color and touched up her makeup.

Pleased with the overall effect, she pulled out her clarinet to practice until her mom got home and could drop her off. What was the point of glamming up only to get all sweaty walking to the theater?

Multitasking, she called it. Practice while you wait. Now she could honestly say she had worked on the music that weekend and Mr. Giles would have no reason to go British on her. She warmed up and set to work with great resolve on an etude that had been giving her difficulty. She'd have it before she met the gang tonight, she was sure of it.

* * *

Two hours later she was in the car with her mother, discussing the latest gossip…within reason. She loved her mother, but couldn't tell her _everything_. That would just be too weird for words. 

"How about boys?" Mrs. Summers asked. "Anyone new?"

"No," Buffy replied, somewhat defensively as her mind conjured up a night spent in the company of someone in black clothing and combat boots. "Same old guys from last year, only with not so many options. I don't wanna go Demi Moore on the freshmen."

Joyce glanced over at her daughter. "I know what you mean, sweetheart. Don't worry. Someone will turn up." She patted her knee reassuringly.

"Yeah," Buffy muttered distractedly as images of crystal blue eyes mocked her and the almost real scent of smoke and leather assailed her senses. _I hate Spike_, she told herself with an air of false conviction as she waved to her mother and got out of the car.

* * *

Buffy walked out of the theater with her friends, laughing hysterically. They had gone to see The Wedding Date, much to the boys' dismay. 

"The best part was when they had sex in the boat," Xander commented enthusiastically to the others, sparking a vivid debate that could have come to blows if not for the hasty intervention of Tara.

"I'm in the mood for a burger," she interrupted nervously. "Let's go to Willy's."

"I'm game," Xander said, slapping his hands together in anticipation, immediately forgetting his previous ire. "Willow? Buffy?"

"I could use one of those shakes," Willow said in agreement as she scuffed her shoes along the pavement.

Buffy shrugged apologetically and said, "I've gotta get home. I have to go to stupid Spike's tomorrow to pick up those stupid poems for English, which my mom will not let me do if I get home late. Then it's buh-bye eligibility and hello Friday night cable."

"_You're _going to Spike's?" Oz inquired, speaking up for the first time as he opened the door for Willow and climbed into his van.

"I didn't tell you?" she pouted. "We got stuck together for a project in English."

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Willow said sympathetically as she buckled her seatbelt. She patted her friend's shoulder through the window. "It'll be over soon."

Oz pulled slowly away from the curb and Buffy waved as the van turned and headed in the direction of the diner. Buffy smiled as her mom pulled up and waved again as Xander, Anya, and Tara drove off in his car, pulling up behind Oz's van at the stoplight. She slid into the seat next to her mother, sighed, and leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window. She wanted a burger. Stupid Spike…ruining things for her when he wasn't even around. And tomorrow she'd have to see him. On a _Saturday_. There had to be a law against that. _One shall only be annoyed by cocky bleached blondes Monday through Friday._

She giggled to herself and settled back against the seat, listening halfheartedly to her mother's idle chatter.

* * *

Buffy trudged morosely up the driveway, glaring obstinately at the large house. She rang the bell, sullen resentment clouding her features, and folded her arms over her chest as she waited for him to answer. She heard movement behind the door and adjusted her pink cardigan.

The door swung inward and her scowl immediately disappeared when she came face to face with Spike's mother. Likewise, the older woman's face brightened and she cried, "Buffy, dear! How nice to see you! I suppose you're here for William." She ushered her inside and continued, closing the door behind them, "He's asleep right now, but I'd be happy to get you some tea while you wait."

"Sure, that'd be…nice." Buffy was a bit taken aback at the woman's cheerfulness, especially at that hour, but she followed her into the dining room and sat down in one of the large wooden chairs, sinking into the white cushion lining.

She glanced around and folded her hands on the table while waiting for his mother to return. Damn Spike, being asleep when _she_ was awake and here.

She wanted to leave, dammit! She glanced around and straightened up when his mother reappeared, a tray with two delicate china cups atop it in hand.

"So my dear, how have you been?" she questioned warmly, her soft accent working against Buffy's hostility.

"Oh, I've been good…how about you?" Buffy replied politely.

"Very well. Williams still abed, I fear. And at this hour, too!"

"Yeah, he's…pretty lazy." Buffy struggled not to make a spiteful remark about the other blonde. It was obvious Anne was fond of him. What was that thing? About a face only a mother could love? Well, Spike was like that. Only with his personality instead of his face. Buffy kinda liked that part of him…She gave herself a mental slap.

Buffy continued chatting idly with Spike's mother for the next quarter hour. "Would you like to go up and get what you need?" the woman questioned. "I'm certain you have other things to do than entertain an old woman like me."

"Oh, no. I don't-"

"Nonsense, go on. I insist. My boy really should be up, especially when there's a lovely girl here to see him."

Buffy laughed. "I hardly think Spike considers me a lovely girl."

"Don't be silly. You're a beautiful young lady and my William isn't blind. I'm quite certain he fancies you."

"Um…ok." Buffy didn't have the heart to tell her that Spike did anything but "fancy her".

"Now, go on."

Buffy did as she was told and left, stepping silently up the stairs and feeling more nervous by the moment…she really didn't want to wake him up. As she approached his door she swallowed hard, pausing before she pushed it open quietly, peering inside.

Spike was splayed on his bed, sheet tangled around his waist, chest exposed. Buffy's mouth went dry and her stomach tensed. She took a step back. He was…god. That was what was hidden under all the black?

Her eyes roved over him unwillingly and she licked her lips. Each muscle of his chest was perfectly contoured and he had a well defined six-pack. His skin was pale and smooth and absolutely lickable. His arms were…wow. Those were…good arms to have. He was so built. He was-

Almost as if he felt her eyes raking over him, he began to stir. Buffy's cheeks flamed up and she averted her eyes, shocked and appalled at her behavior. Here she was, good little Buffy, checking out her mortal enemy while he was asleep in bed. So what if said mortal enemy had muscles to die for and killer abs? She was still bad. Very bad. Bad, bad Buffy.

She cleared her throat and said loudly, eyes glued to the floor, "Spike, your mom sent me to- um- I need the…poems. For school."

He blinked and sat up, gazing at her bleary-eyed. His hair was tousled from sleep; the usually slicked back locks springing up into short curls. His long lashes swept low over his cheekbones as he continued to blink sleepily at her. It was adorable. No- it was annoying. Annoying that he was still asleep, nice body or no.

"Spike!" she tried again. "Did you hear me?"

"Buffy?" He seemed to fully acknowledge her for the first time. "Bloody- what the hell're you doing in my bedroom?"

She retorted just as sharply, "Po-ems. Are you deaf? I've been waiting downstairs for almost an hour while your lazy ass was up here asleep!"

Spike stood up suddenly, kicking off the sheet and marching over to his desk. Buffy was stunned breathless as more of his body was exposed to her. His back muscles rippled as he moved and her eyes widened in surprised delight as she took in the rest of him. He was wearing black boxer-briefs and looked absolutely…scrumptious. Something tightened in the pit of her stomach and she gulped. He for the most part, seemed completely unperturbed by his nudity, or near-nudity.

He turned back to her and she quickly looked away, staring intently at the wall as he stalked towards her with the poems clutched in his fist. Her breath hitched as he glared down at her, and she awkwardly took the poems from his hand. "Thanks," she tried.

His gaze softened and he muttered, "Welcome."

"I'll just…go then."

"No. Y' don't have to."

Her eyes widened. He wanted her to stay? Well, she wouldn't say no to being in the same room with that nice piece of- Buffy hastily shoved Bad!Buffy into the back of her mind where she belonged.

"I'll just…put some clothes on." _Darn,_ Bad!Buffy whispered from her corner. "I shouldn'tve been so rude," he continued.

She sat at his desk chair while he gathered up some clothes and went into the bathroom. Flipping through the stack of poems in her hand, she selected one randomly and read:

Eyes, fluid pools of emerald  
A woodland pond sparkling radiant in afternoon gleam.  
Hair, sunshine and golden honey  
Spring after the dead winter that haunts my forsaken soul…  
Beauty ethereal, glittering…effulgent.  
Grace that never ceases to astound!  
Oh that I might touch-  
Touch and be blessed with the fire  
the enchantment  
that is yours alone to give…

Buffy swallowed, her emotions written on her features. It was…Had Spike really written that? She'd had no idea that he could write like that. That he could write at all. The poem was obviously about a girl. But who? Drusilla? No…the description was off…Whoever it was, she had someone pretty talented writing tributes to her and Buffy felt a pang of jealousy, whether this poem girl was made up or not. She reread the poem slowly.

Buffy was beginning to suspect there was a ­_lot_ she didn't know about the bleached blonde drummer. First, she had seen the softer side of Spike; so far never directed at her…yet, but-

_Yet? _that devious part of the Buffy brain interrupted again.

She pushed the thought aside. _No_ yets…

Then there was the piano incident and now the poem…Maybe he was actually someone worth getting to know…just maybe.

* * *

Hey, I know, I know, another longtime, no update. Really, _really _sorry. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Even if it wasn't, let me know you're still with me by reviewing, yeah? Thanks! 


	8. Band Party

**Previously on Buffy: **Buffy and the gang catch a movie to relieve some Friday night boredom, and the next day she returns to Casa de Spike to finish up the English project. As usual, things don't go as planned, but they get it done nonetheless…

* * *

Two weeks later, Buffy was ecstatic when their poems were handed back, an 'A' adorning their coversheet. Buffy had remained at Spike's the rest of that afternoon, working on the cover and laughing with him. They had argued, but playfully, and with none of their usual venom. It was oddly comfortable, nearly unsettlingly so. But in a good way.

She turned in her seat and flashed the booklet at him. "Hey look…we didn't do so bad."

He gave her a tiny smirk and went back to absently rapping his pen on the table. He was proud of the grade he and Summers had received and could tell she was too, but there was no sense in announcing to the world that he was a poncy bugger who wrote poetry, even if it was good…had to keep up his rep. He'd celebrate with her after class. Plenty of time for that.

Buffy stared at him a moment longer, then turned around. They hadn't really talked since that day, but she thought something had changed. They weren't friends, but not enemies anymore either. Or at least that's what she'd assumed. He'd even made her lunch. _Peanut butter and jelly_, she remembered with a smile. Perhaps she just wasn't good enough to associate with in public. Might tarnish his bad boy image…Well if that's the way he wanted to be, fine. She slumped down in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest, staring fixedly ahead while Ms. Laurens lectured over the merits of early American lit.

Twenty minutes later, after turning in a pop quiz over Poe and some of his most macabre works, she returned to her seat with a frown. _That_ quiz wasn't gonna help her get into Harvard anytime soon…Not that she wanted to go to Harvard, but, you know…

She jumped slightly when she felt knuckles brush softly over her left shoulder, but stared stonily ahead. _Now _he wanted to talk? "'s wrong?" he whispered softly against her ear.

"Nothing that concerns _you_," she whispered back acidly, not bothering to turn around, still agitated over his earlier treatment of her.

His eyes narrowed. Oh, she was back to _that_, was she? His concern evaporated and he questioned audibly, "Bad sex?"

Buffy blushed and snapped, "Shut up!" When a few of their peers turned to glance at them, she continued hurriedly, "And no! In fact, no sex. And you shouldn't be asking!"

Spike grinned lasciviously and leaned back in his seat, "Just wondering. I mean, after you propositioned me in my car and all…figured you needed to get off."

Buffy whirled on him. "_What?_ There was _no_ propositioning in your car! When was I even in your car and— " She realized she was only making the situation worse and gave up, turning back around and doodling furiously on her notebook. She was stupid to think that anything had changed between her and that…jerk.

* * *

The next day after school, Buffy drove home with Anya to help her plan for the party that was to be held the next day. They had a football game to attend that night and had decided to use the in-between time to prepare for the festivities. Anya's mother was in L.A. for the weekend and had allowed her daughter to invite friends over. Of course, in Anya's vocabulary, "friends" equaled the entire Sunnydale High Marching Band, and so party plannage commenced.

"Well," Anya remarked as they neared her house. "Mom gone, I'm thinking nothing big, the gang and a few others, you know? The low brass, woodwinds, drummers…maybe I'll be nice and invite a few flag girls just so the drummers will feel right at home with their groupies. Afterward, a night of female bonding. You, me, Willow, Tara, and a couple pints of Ben and Jerry's with some Steel Magnolias and A Cinderella Story to finish off the evening. Sound fun?"

Buffy wasn't at all surprised that "a few others" consisted of one hundred plus teens, but she knew they wouldn't all show, so they were safe. Relatively. Anya was wild at heart and crazy ideas were the norm when you hung with her. "How exactly do you plan to fit all of these people into your house?" she questioned skeptically.

"Oh, we'll manage…" The trumpet player sighed, happily cutting off another driver who let his feelings be known with the blare of his horn and one finger thrust skyward. "You can make the dip…"

* * *

The next evening Buffy showed up at Anya's in some tight blue jeans and a green baby doll tee with her hair loose and casual around her shoulders. The party was starting. Food had been made, phone calls had gone out, Buffy had gone home to change, and people were showing up right on schedule.

Buffy loved her friend's house. Anya's mother was wealthy and the house showed it: large and modern, lots of glass, skylights, a back porch complete with pool… The blonde went upstairs to set her purse in Anya's room and smear on some lip gloss. Once she headed back down, Buffy noticed that most everyone had arrived and Anya was hurriedly ushering them out back. The girl was more protective of her home than her mother would ever be. That little fact had kept her from grounding numerous times. She was one of the few teens whose parents never even found out when she had a party.

Upon following the masses outdoors, Buffy was greeted by a blast of loud music and the sight of Anya and Willow approaching, the former of which was holding a strawberry wine cooler in hand. Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Where did you get _that_?" she asked.

"Ice chest," Anya replied simply, taking a swig.

Buffy glanced around and saw two large ice chests with assorted flavors of wine coolers as well as some beers. She grinned guiltily at Anya and said, "Take advantage of the fun, I always say…"

With that, she walked over to the cooler and took both a strawberry and a piña colada flavored one. Didn't want them to run out of her favorite kinds. Nope, nope, nope…

* * *

Buffy sat in a circle on the floor with Anya, Xander, and a couple of their peers. It was 10:30 and she was sufficiently drunk, giggling profusely. Spike sat two spaces to her right, sipping a beer as a girl to his left spun the bottle. Yep indeed, she was playing the game of preteens— and apparently drunks. Childish but fun, even more so when alcohol was involved.

Buffy wondered absently when Spike had gotten there, dimly recalling a conversation with Anya that went something like:

_"Spike? You invited Spike?"_

_"What? He's an attractive male and you seem to be the only one who has a problem with him. Plus he lives like a block away. I couldn't **not **invite him…"_

_"I can't even escape him during fun time now?"_

She wasn't sure that had actually occurred though. It was about six wine coolers ago, and a tipsy Buffy wasn't a reliable-memory Buffy. Suddenly she realized the bottle was pointing at her and snapped out of her daze. A twinge of disappointment hit her when she looked up at the brunette who'd spun the bottle. He was fairly attractive, but nothing to write home about…With a jolt she realized that this would only be her second kiss. Well, second kiss with a different guy. It wasn't like she and Angel had only kissed once…She realized that he was waiting expectantly for her to come closer. _First step to recovery?_ she thought. _Move on._

She leaned forward a bit and waited for him to kiss her because her legs didn't seem to want to work. Finally he did so and she leaned into it, pressing her lips back against his. A pointed cough sounded from somewhere to her right. She ignored it. "'s not an excuse to make out, y' know," a rough British voice muttered grumpily.

Buffy pulled back, narrowing her eyes at Spike as she did so. "Bored now," she chirped in a voice that belied her irritation and smiled at kiss-boy, standing up and wobbling over to where Willow and Oz were sitting— erm, make that making out. Guess that think about alcohol being an aphrodisiac was true; they were the only couple she knew that never did that in public. She ambled away and sat on a small stone bench crowded with about five other teens, squishing herself between a brunette girl and…Spike. "Weren't you just playing Spin the Bottle?" she asked, the alcohol in her system not letting her remain angry for long. She whirled her head around to glance at the group on the other side of the pool, as if to make sure there weren't two of him.

"Got boring," he replied simply, sipping on yet another beer. "The only interesting player left…"

She ignored his flirtation despite her furious blush and quickly changed the subject. "How many of those've you had, mister?" she asked him, gesturing towards the brown bottle he was holding and resting her hand unwittingly on his thigh. "Gonna get drunk."

"Eleven." He cast a sidelong glance down at her hand. "Looks like it's too late for some of us…" Spike did look a little buzzed, but nowhere near Buffy's inebriated state.

"Hey!" she said, flicking his ear playfully with her forefinger as he looked away.

He turned back to her. "Did you just lick my ear?" he questioned.

"No!" she replied, indignant. "Why?"

He shook his head as if to clear it and said, "Never mind," looking off towards the pool again.

On a whim, Buffy leaned over and seductively traced his ear with the tip of her tongue, swaying slightly. She sat back, looking around innocently when he turned back to her, stifling her giggles. "What?" she batted her eyelashes. "You told me to…"

He smiled, a wicked gleam in his eye, but just then Willow came over. "Buffy, come sit with me," she entreated, nibbling on some chips.

Obediently, Buffy stood, supporting herself with a hand on Spike's shoulder, and then moved unsteadily over towards the picnic table with Willow…

* * *

About an hour later, Buffy was lying in the grass, her head pillowed in Spike's lap. They were now lounging next to the bench they'd previously been sitting atop. Buffy wasn't quite sure how she'd gotten there, her memory being a bit fuzzy, but her head had cleared some and she was perfectly content to just lie there, staring at the stars. She dimly recalled people leaving the party, returning to sit on the wall and talking to Spike who was in the grass, then deciding to join him.

His fingers were now gently combing through her hair while his other hand faintly caressed her ear. "Your ears are tiny…" he commented offhandedly as he gazed down at her. She blinked up at him. "Didn't you say that about my hands earlier?" she questioned, raising her hand to her face to scrutinize it. He stopped toying with her hair to clasp it, and Buffy stifled a gasp at the intimacy of this simple act.

"_Everything _about you is tiny," he amended.

She laughed softly as both his hands moved to cup her face and his thumb brushed gently over the tip of her nose. She rested her hands over her stomach again, enjoying the feel of his caress and resisting the urge to purr in delight. She wasn't sure why she was doing this, it wasn't as if she had feelings for him, it wasn't as if they were even _friends,_ but something about that moment seemed so right that she couldn't bear to end it. Or maybe it was the alcohol…

Swiftly, he brought his nose down and touched the tips of their noses together in an upside down Eskimo kiss, effectively silencing all her thoughts. Buffy smiled, a tingle of pleasure shooting through her…his hair smelled so good. Absentmindedly she leaned up and sniffed it.

"What're you doing?" he asked, puzzled, brushing his cheek against hers.

"Smelling your hair," she replied. "It smells good."

He sat back and smiled at her.

Buffy gazed up at him, studying his features. For the first time, she wasn't embarrassed as she scrutinized him. His eyes were so nice when he smiled. The way the corners crinkled when he _really_ smiled, it made her all gooshy inside. The fact that he was smiling at _her _only doubled the meltiness. Her gaze traveled down to his lips.

Damn, he had nice lips…Suddenly his face changed; the smile disappeared and he looked down at her intensely. Buffy looked back into his eyes questioningly, a puzzled frown marring her features. Had she done something wrong? She fidgeted under his scrutiny. His gaze continued to burn into her and before she could realize what was happening, Spike's head tilted and his mouth slowly descended towards hers. _Ohmigod, he's going to—_

Buffy gave an inaudible gasp as his mouth closed over hers and she reflexively parted her lips. She froze. Oh god, he was kissing her…She hadn't expected it, and was sure she should be telling him to stop, but god, she didn't want to. This was all she needed. His tongue pushed into her mouth and tangled gently with hers and the faint taste of strawberries pervaded her senses. Finally, she began to relax as his tongue caressed hers, seemingly everywhere at once, and Buffy did her best not to moan. Angel had never kissed like this… Buffy was only dimly aware of her hand as it instinctively went to the back of his head, and she finally began to kiss him back, tentatively at first, uncertain of how to proceed.

All of a sudden, the oddity of the situation struck her and she smiled softly into his mouth. He pulled back, mystified, and she murmured the first thing that came to mind: "You taste like strawberries." Not the most eloquent thing, but…

At that, he laughed aloud. "Why?"

She shrugged, even as she realized it was the flavor from the wine cooler. She was already regretful that she had ruined the moment when he leaned down again. This time when his lips descended upon hers, she was ready. She kissed him back in earnest, her fingers once again entangling themselves in his bleached locks, her other hand gripping the grass beneath her and anchoring her to reality. He kissed her breathless, the sweetness of his tongue sending tremors throughout her entire body and causing her mind to fog with a cloudy haze of pure bliss. She loved the way he tasted…strawberries and pure Spike. The fact that he was an amazing kisser didn't hurt either…the things he could do with that _tongue_. Buffy was helpless to do anything but _feel_, kissing him back desperately. She was dying…this was pure heaven…

They finally pulled back, in desperate need of air. She licked her lips and stared up at him, a bit confused about what they'd just done and at a loss for words, still euphoric from the sensations that continued to assail her. Suddenly the gusty wind of pleasure she had been spiraling on dipped down and Buffy plunged to reality. She had just kissed Spike. Oh, god.

Not knowing what else to do, she fumbled for words, "I'd better…find Anya. She probably needs help…cleaning up." She climbed unsteadily to her feet, ignoring the hurt and questioning stare he gave her. She knew her excuse was pathetic, but she needed to think, or sit down, or sleep. Possibly all three. Without a backwards glance, she fled into the house.

* * *

The next morning, Buffy woke up, a cat-ate-the-canary grin on her face, final images of Spike dancing behind her closed eyes. She sat up and stretched, but the smile wouldn't seem to fade, and Buffy had the urge to dance around the room and sing a jaunty tune. She didn't want to think; thinking would only bring about complications and complications were sure to spoil her mood. So she contented herself with reliving the moment over and over again in her mind.

She didn't know why, but last night had been…wow. She didn't _like _him or anything, but it was still the best kiss she'd ever had. She took off down the hall to brush her teeth and smiled some more, continuing to imagine the sweet intensity of his lips…

* * *

That night, Willow was at her house working on homework. Well, ok, _attempting_ to work on homework. Really, they were sitting amidst piles of notes and papers, while Buffy eagerly spilled about the previous nights events…Well, less with the eager and more with the apprehensive, but she _was _going to tell her best friend. Really.

"So why're you so happy Buff? Willow questioned, smiling conspiratorially. "I noticed you were all bubbly-girl at Anya's this morning."

"Yeah?" Buffy beamed back. "K, well…" She paused in sudden trepidation. "Wills, you can't tell _anyone_," she said seriously.

"I won't," the redhead swore, immediately all business.

"K, it's because- _Promise_ you won't tell? Because I dunno why I'm so happy, it didn't really mean anything and-"

Willow looked blank as she absorbed the blonde's ramblings.

Buffy took a deep shuddering breath: "IkindasortakissedSpike."

"You kinda…" Her eyes widened in realization. "You kissed Spike!" she shrieked. "As in mortal enemy Spike?"

"Shh!" Buffy said, irrationally worried someone would hear. "Yes. I know. God…" She buried her face in her hands.

"Do you like him?" Willow asked, more softly as she absorbed the information.

Buffy raised her head, all smiles once more. "No! I just…it was nice."

Willow 'aww'ed and gave her a knowing look.

"What?" Buffy demanded, unable to stop smiling. "I don't."

Willow raised an eyebrow.

"It was just a really good kiss…"

* * *

On Monday, when Buffy arrived at band, she entered through the back of the room, passing through the drummers. Spike was there with Devon and Jimmy, and Buffy grew nervous. What was the protocol for greeting someone with whom you'd shared random kissage with that weekend? Should she be flirty? Coy? Casual? Should she ignore him?

She finally glanced over and met his eyes, smiling slightly. He gazed back, giving almost no sign he had noticed her. She stared at him a second longer until he turned back to his fellow drummers. She blanched, then sped up and made her way to her seat, hurt filling her eyes. He was such a guy! Sure, it hadn't meant anything, but the least he could do was acknowledge her existence! Her venom for the drummer came back full force. Stupid bleached jerk.

What she didn't know was that he was now staring fixedly at the back of her head, oblivious to the conversation of his friends, wanting nothing more than to go up and sit by her, talk to her, ask how her weekend had been…

The kiss hadn't meant anything, but he did harbor an affection for the other blonde; he just wasn't sure how to show it. She was so critical of him that he wouldn't know what to do if his attempts at friendship were spurned. Well, he'd probably respond in kind, as he always did, but that didn't' mean he _wanted _her to mock him. It was easier to sit back and fantasize, at least for the time being. Even if it had been a damn good kiss…

* * *

I know it's been another bout of forever and I wish I had more time for this, because I really enjoy it, but I don't. Have time, that is. So I'll continue to update whenever possible, and once again, I really really really really hope that you all enjoyed this chapter. Either way, review. Pretty please? 


	9. To LA we go

**Previously on Buffy: **More drama between our favorite duo due to miscommunication, as usual. All is resolved, at least temporarily, at Anya's party when some alcohol thrown into the mix results in kissage. Of course, things can never be just peachy, and Monday morning brings about more crushed hopes and bitter resentment…

Oh, and to SapeloSweetie, who noted that I might have a slight grudge against colorguard: nah. I used to, but everything I write about them just comes from firsthand experience. I know they aren't all bad and even considered joining winterguard myself at one point, but since cheerleaders are the stereotypical slut/bitches in most high school fics, I decided to mix things up a bit and make it flags. Humor me.

* * *

Two weeks went by, and Buffy missed him. She'd never admit to it, of course, but she did. Ever since that day, they hadn't really spoken, aside from the occasional hello or witty barb. Both of them were too proud to apologize; too proud to attempt reconciliation; too proud to admit they cared. And so they pretended they didn't. Pretended they meant nothing to one another and that they were mere acquaintances. Mere acquaintances who had shared one really hot kiss.

This troubled Buffy more than she liked to admit. She had other things to occupy her mind, however, like the upcoming band trip to LA. It was for a marching contest, not fun, but any excuse to get out of Sunnydale was fine by her. By the time October 5th rolled around, she was packed and ready. She woke at 5 am, rolled out of bed, put on her Yummy Sushi pajamas (bus comfort was a must), gathered up her things, and had her mom drive her to school, where she bid her an almost tearful goodbye. Buffy got out of the car with her suitcase and a small bag; they would be back by late Sunday, so she had packed light. She greeted her friends, helped to load the buses, then climbed aboard.

She and Tara took the seat behind Willow and Oz and across from Xander and Anya. Buffy had the aisle and Tara, the window. The blonde got comfortable, pulling out her CD player and settling back on the pillow she had brought. She loved travel buses; band trips were always fun and at the end of them, you felt closer to your friends and usually made some new ones. Most of this occurred on the bus. There was nothing like five hours of traveling in a cramped box to really bring people together… She was startled out of her musings when Spike boarded the bus in lived in jeans and a tight black muscle shirt. His hair was spiked up in loose curls- he hadn't gelled it back- and the result was sexy as hell. Her mouth watered.

She looked away when he passed her row, ignoring the tightening in the pit of her stomach, and only turned to look at him after he had gone. Why did he have to be such an ass? She contemplated this as she watched him situate himself next to a flag girl, rolling her eyes as the girl feigned sleepiness and leaned her head on Spike's shoulder. Buffy turned around in annoyance. _Slut_.

* * *

That night, after they finally arrived at their motel and she had unpacked, Buffy made her way downstairs to see Xander. More out of boredom than anything else, seeing as how the others were still unpacking. The brunette was rooming with Oz, Spike, and Devon; the last two out of necessity, not choice. Buffy waited until the band booster in front of their room passed and then slipped inside, leaving the door open a crack. No reason to make them believe she was doing anything wrong. Technically speaking, girls weren't supposed to be in the guy's rooms at midnight, and vice versa, but they had just gotten to the hotel, for Pete's sake!

Who exactly _was_ Pete? she wondered absently. And why did people do things for his sake? Buffy puzzled over this for a moment. She shrugged off the inane thoughts and looked around the room for the first time.

Oz was sitting on the far double bed watching TV while Xander stood, greeting her with a smile. "Hey, Buffy, we found porn!" he informed her giddily.

She flopped down on the bed nearest the door and spread out, languidly stretching her limbs and crinkling her nose in disgust. "Where?"

Xander snatched the remote from Oz in an attempt to show her, flipping eagerly through the few channels they had. "Aw, its gone," he moaned despondently, sitting in a chair near the TV, looking as if someone had just kicked his puppy.

Buffy inhaled the smell of hotel room, noting when Spike came out of the bathroom dressed in some black pajamas and a t-shirt, messy curls firmly intact. Yum. She turned away. Blatant ogling was of the bad. Might give him ideas that she had feeling, _desires_, that she certainly did _not _harbor. He easily flopped down on the bed beside her, causing her stomach to tighten in unwonted excitement, so she feigned disinterest and moved her arm over as if to get away from him. _Pretenses, pretenses…_

Playfully, he rolled on top of her, staring down as if waiting for her to say something. She looked back up at him, hoping that he didn't notice that her breathing had grown heavier and her right leg had bend to accommodate him between her thighs. "W-what are you doing?" she questioned. Ok, not the brightest thing to ask, but…he made her nervous. She cursed herself for allowing him to affect her that way.

"What does it look like?" came the rejoinder and accompanying smirk.

Damn him. She swallowed hard. Belatedly she realized that the door was open and the band booster president was standing outside. She pushed him off and sat up, immediately worried about getting in trouble, her face flushed a bright red. He merely smirked and lounged back, eyeing her discomfort in amusement.

"Are you crazy?" she hissed. "Mrs. Pace was right there!"

He merely raised an eyebrow and chuckled. She was just about to continue when the door was pushed open and the annoying chaperone who had been assigned to their bus—she liked to think of his as Moustache-Guy— came in and said, "You, out," in a tone that brooked no nonsense.

"But I'm waiting for the other bus to get here. Some of my stuff is on it. And it's cold outside."

"Out," Mousetache-Guy repeated firmly.

She pouted and exited, leaning against the chilly outside wall while waiting for the bus to arrive. The chaperone left and the door opened once more as Spike exited to join her. She glanced at his bare arms. "Aren't you cold?" she queried resentfully.

Spike shook his head, noting her shiver. He reentered the room and returned a moment later with his long leather coat in hand. "Here."

She gratefully accepted it and slipped it on over her pjs, sighing in bliss as essence of Spike surrounded her. Just as she was about to speak, the final bus pulled into the parking lot and Buffy walked over to retrieve her clarinet case from the storage area underneath the bus, surprised when Spike followed to aid in her search. After a few minutes in which they dug around in silence, she located the missing item and began heading in the direction of her room, awkwardly thanking Spike for his help.

"Don't mention it, pet. Glad I could be of…_service_." He cast her a sidelong glance and ran his tongue over his top teeth when she looked over at him.

She said nothing and continued walking, looking at him in confusion when he kept pace.

"What?" he asked. "Got to walk the lady to her room. This isn't the nicest motel..."

She blushed, not used to the more chivalrous side of Spike. He hadn't spoken to her this much since…Her mind flew back to the night of the kiss and her entire body heated up at the memory. He noticed her discomfort and eyed her curiously, but said nothing more until they reached her room.

"Well," she spoke for the first time. "This is where I get off…" His eyes lit up in playful mischief and too late, she noticed the double entendre of her words. "I mean, um, this- this is my room," she hastily amended. "where I sleep."

He smirked and pressed his hand on the wall beside her head. "You've been awfully quiet tonight, pet…Something bothering you?" He stepped closer, closing the distance between them and gazing down at her with hooded lids. "Maybe something I could lend a hand with?"

"No," she squeaked as images of Spike lending a_ hand _flashed through her mind. "Why?"

He lowered his voice to a whisper and breathed into her ear, "You seem a little…flushed."

"Nope," she denied, pressing her back against the wall in a desperate effort to ease the effect his proximity was having on her. "No flushedness here! I should…go…inside. Now." She turned to open the door just as it swung inward to reveal Willow on the other side. The redhead's eyes widened as they darted from Buffy to Spike back to Buffy.

"Hi," she said, a little too brightly.

"Wills! Spike here was just- walking me. To the door." She rapped on it. "Wood!" A weak chuckle. "Possibly some kind of wood veneer…" At the blank stares she received from both ends, she continued, "Night, Spike!" and closed the door.

Willows lips curved upward in a smile as Buffy turned to face her and she said, "Wood veneer, huh?"

Buffy rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Shut up," she said. "God, I'm so… I don't know what's up with me," she mumbled, mortified. "You should have seen—"

Spike's pretty _up_ with you…" Willow interrupted, grinning impishly.

"Willow! That's so not what I meant! And no he isn't. Ew!"

"That's not what you were saying out there…"

"Yes! Yes, I was. Major ew-age. And…" she trailed off. "I need a shower."

"A cold one?" Willow questioned innocently as Tara exited the bathroom.

Buffy sent Mr. Gordo flying at Willow's head as she headed past Tara into the bathroom, ignoring the other blonde's curious gaze. It wasn't until she closed the door that Buffy realized she was still wearing Spike's coat.

* * *

The next morning, Buffy reluctantly opened her eyes to the orangey glow of the room lamp that contrasted with the hint of early morning blue that was peeking through the curtain. She could hear the shower running and Anya's off-key rendition of "Too Sexy" coming from the bathroom. She moaned and rolled over, coming face to face with a tangle of red hair. She poked Willow's shoulder. Hard. Hey, if _she_ had to be up…

"Don't warn the tadpoles!" the redhead shouted as she swam back to consciousness. She blinked and rolled over, taking in Buffy's confused features. "Frog fear…" she murmured apologetically. Willow immediately yawned, got up, and began to dress. Buffy covered her head with the blanket. Damn morning people…

Ten minutes later, she finally crawled out of bed and washed her face and applied her makeup. Just as she was about to begin dressing, there was a knock on the door. Tara pulled it open to reveal Oz and Xander on the other side. They came in and sat on the bed, waiting for the girls to finish gettting ready. Buffy sighed and waited for Anya to exit the bathroom. How exactly was she supposed to get dressed with two guys in the room?

After an eternity, the other girl exited, fully dressed, primped, and polished. Buffy glared and went into the steaming bathroom, quickly pulling on some sweats and a tank top so that they wouldn't leave and go to breakfast sans Buffy. When she came out, they were already half out the door, so she hurried and they made their way through the morning fog to the breakfast room of the motel. They were the first to arrive and were already sitting down with hot plates of eggs, potatoes, and toast when everyone else began streaming in.

Xander came precariously balancing four cups in his hands. "I come bearing coffee!" he bellowed. Oz followed behind with two more cups for himself and Willow.

Once they had eaten, the girls trailed back to their room to gather the things they would need for the contest. They performed at eleven, but already she could feel the butterflies of nervousness beginning to wake and flutter about her stomach. She took a deep breath and reminded herself of the arduous hours of practice they had spent preparing for this. They were ready.

She glanced one last time at the room before shutting off the lights and closing the door, hurrying to meet the others on the bus. She boarded and took a seat by Xander. Traditional bus rules stated that you _had _to switch seat partners several times during a band trip, sometimes leaving seats entirely vacant while five people were crowded on another. It was a thing.

Turning back, she could see two girls sharing a seat with Spike, their lean bodies pressed against him from both sides. She gritted her teeth and turned around, dropping her head onto Xander's shoulder. She closed her eyes and fantasized about throwing things at the trio several rows behind her, falling asleep with a placid smile on her face…

* * *

She was shaken awake, fruitlessly batting at the hand that jostled her. "Buffy…Buffy!"

"Nyah," she mumbled."

"We're here! The stadium!"

Her eyes opened immediately and the now-familiar butterflies took flight, beating their wings erratically once more. People were already disembarking from the bus and Buffy straightened her hair and hurried to follow. Pausing, she turned back to Xander, eyeing his shoulder. "No drool?" she asked.

"Completely drool free," he assured her.

She nodded, pacified.

Once off the bus, she retrieved her instrument from the storage compartment underneath, set it up, and followed the rest of the band towards the stadium where they would perform. Once they were near, Giles stopped them and said, "All right, everyone. We're to warm up, the proceed to the tunnel where we'll wait to go on." Noting the unusual lack of jokes or remarks, he continued, more quietly, "You all, I'm not sure you realize quite how proud I am of you. Of the work you've done, of the time you've committed…of everything you've done. If I'd been chosen to be the director of the Blue Devils themselves, I couldn't be prouder." He paused, polishing his glasses. "I just- I've done all I possibly can, and the rest is up to you. I wish you all the best today. I really care about each and every one of you…more than you know…" Vigorous rubbing of glasses.

Buffy struggled not to cry. She really loved Giles, and, on impulse, ran up and gave him a hug. He embraced her, looking somewhat surprised, and smiled warmly down at her. She stepped back and a moment later, Willow too, ran up to hug him, followed by Tara, Anya, and even Dawn. Giles cleared his throat and continued, "Yes, well, we really must be- getting to the warm up area. It's imperative that we—"

A collective chuckle rose from the band at Giles' obvious flusterity, and they dutifully moved towards the warm up area. After stretching and physical warm up, they moved into the playing warm up and shortly, Giles sent them off into their sections for more individual preparation. When Buffy had finished tuning and warming up on some of the more difficult sections of the show, she wished all of the clarinet players luck, gave Tara a hug, and waited for Giles to call them back into a group.

After he did so, they got into two rows of two and walked towards the tunnel that led into the stadium. From that vantage point, they could hear the preceding band and Buffy felt the butterflies in her stomach grow claws. She winced and took a deep breath, smiling nervously at Tara, who was beside her. Suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Spike gazing at her.

"Came to say, uh, good luck."

Her face relaxed into the first real smile that day and she said, "Thanks…you, too." Unaware that the rest of her section was staring at her from their respective places, she leaned up and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his. "Good luck on that solo," she whispered.

He placed his hands on her waist and breathed into her hair, "Thanks, pet." She gave him one last squeeze and pulled back, her stomach calm for the first time that day. He made his way back to the percussion section and she turned back to Tara, giving her reed a lick.

Tara looked at her and asked, "W-what was that about?"

"What?" Buffy replied innocently.

Tara paused and finally said, "Never mind."

When they heard the click of the steady cadence of drums as the band before them left the field, they straightened. They were up. She was near the front of the procession and watched Amy and Betty as they prepared to call attention…"Band. Ten. Hut!"

She snapped her horn to the proper position and yelled loudly, "Pride!"

"Mark. Time. Hut!"

She bent her knees as she counted off the first four beats and began to march to the steady beat of the snare. _Spike's _snare…She pushed the thought away as she entered the huge dome for the first time, focusing on standing tall, marching smoothly, and being in step. She stopped at the edge of the field and turned to face the stadium with the rest of her peers. The drum majors called attention once more and they glide-stepped onto the field, forming themselves into the first picture of the show.

"And now," a voice boomed over the loudspeaker, "the Sunnydale High… Marching Razorbacks! Drum majors," the speaker addressed Betty and Amy, "are you ready to take the field?"

The two girls did their salute in response, perfectly in time with one another and then ran to the podiums. Buffy stood stock still as they prepared to call attention for the third and final time…She took a deep breath as horns up was called and thought, _Here we go…  
_

* * *

Hey guys, I know it's been absolutely FOREVER, and I apologize, as always. Please just bear with me and trust me when I say that this story will _not _be abandoned, no matter how long between updates. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know you're still with me by reviewing, yeah? 


	10. On the Road Again

**Previously on Buffy: **The band goes out of town for a marching contest in LA and our favorite duo manages a slight reconciliation the night before the big event. The gang is now anxiously awaiting the results of their performance…

* * *

Buffy sipped on her milkshake as she nodded at something Xander had said. After performing, the travel buses had dropped them off at a restaurant—all hundred and seventy-two of them— and were due back in two hours to return them to the stadium to see the results. To see whether or not they had made finals… 

It was her last chance to do so, senior year and all, and Buffy was worried. She believed they had done exceptionally well, but then again, bands from all over the west coast were attending so… She shook off her worries and focused on her food. Food was good. Food was her friend. Yum.

"This is no good!" she exclaimed suddenly. Oz, Willow, and Tara looked up expectantly; Anya continued calculating the exact tip on a napkin; and Xander stopped chewing, looking down at his food as if it might be toxic. "I'm nervous," she muttered anticlimactically.

The boys resumed eating while Willow and Tara comforted Buffy and expressed their concern about the scores as well. Talking alleviated some of Buffy's tension and pretty soon, she was conversing and laughing again, contest temporarily forgotten…

* * *

Buffy was exceptionally happy. Ecstatic, even. The butterflies of nerves that had attacked her earlier had turned to champagne fizzles and the warm tingle kept a smile plastered on her face and an urge to dance in her feet. 

They had won.

Upon returning to the stadium later that evening, they had been given a chance to shop around the various booths and buy snacks until the ratings were to be announced. She had finally taken a seat with the rest of the gang and listened as each of the participating schools were called, cheering loudly when Sunnydale High came up and Amy and Betty did their salute on the field decked out in full drum major regalia. From there, they had announced the ratings: a one was superior, two was above average, a three was average, and four was poor. She'd never known of any school that actually received a four. In her mind, as in the mind of any true band geek, a four was grounds for suicide. Literally. Or at least permanent self-exile.

When Sunnydale High was up, she'd waited with bated breath… "…_One_!…" There was a pause, and then their entire section of the stadium had burst into cheers, jumping up and applauding wildly. The screaming had gone on for over a minute, even drowning out the announcer as the next score was announced. From there, they had also been one of the top ten, which meant that they had advanced to finals, a first in Sunnydale High history. They didn't make Grand Champions, but finals in itself was enough for her, so the second place overall they had come out as was just the cherry on top of her _very_ large sundae of happiness.

All of this was on her mind as she boarded the bus; she was only slightly disappointed when she saw the seat next to Tara already occupied by a French horn player named Kennedy. _Ah, the dreaded ex…_Buffy thought. Tara shrugged helplessly at her in silent apology and Buffy moved past her to look for a seat, sighing in resignation when the only empty one was by Spike. He was sprawled across it with headphones on, so she stopped next to him and looked down expectantly, waiting until he glanced up at her to indicate that he should move his feet. He shook his head slowly and gave her the infamous eye roll.

She was about to get angry when he grinned and sat up, leaving room for her to sit. The ride back to the motel was silent, and after they had stopped to get their things, she reboarded wearing Spike's coat. When she sat near him, he cast her a sidelong glance then raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Um…I have your jacket," she told him.

"I noticed. Was wondering when you were planning on returning that…" This time she had the window, and she proceeded to stare out as they passed various buildings on the way towards the highway. After a moment, he prodded, "You gonna give it to me or what?"

"I'm tired," she said by way of response.

"Yeah, as it's 12:30 am and the lot of us rose at cock's crow, I'd imagine you're not the only one…What I'd like to know is how that little tidbit affects you and giving me my coat."

"It's comfy," came her mumbled reply.

"It's mine," he parried.

"I know…"

He sighed and gave up. Bloody stubborn chit. Short of ripping it from her body, there was no way he was getting it back anytime soon…Not that that sounded half bad, actually. He grinned complacently as images of ripping off Summers' clothes flashed through his head. As she nodded off, she turned away from the window and towards him, her head falling to his shoulder, her hand dropping to his thigh as she slept…

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Spike shook her awake as they stopped at a gas station to get changed into PJs, buy snacks…simply get off and wander. "Mmph," she mumbled. 

"Hey Summers, wanna get up? I'd kinda like to get out of this bloody tin can we've been in for the past two days."

"No…"

He shook her again.

"Don't wanna." She remained oblivious to the angry stares she was receiving from flag girls who quite obviously wanted _their_ turn with Spike.

He sighed and settled back, giving up any presuppositions he'd had on stretching his legs. After the bus rumbled to life again and pulled out of the parking lot, Buffy's head popped up. "I'm not tired now."

"You've only been asleep for half an hour," he protested.

"Well, yeah, but you woke me up."

"I woke you up ten minutes ago, when we were still _stopped_," he pointed out.

"Well yeah, but I'm up now."

He rolled his eyes, but was startled out of his annoyance when she leaned against him. Summers was being affectionate? Towards him? Unsure of how to react, he sat stiffly, then slowly relaxed and tentatively snaked his arm around her shoulder. A self-satisfied smirk crept over his features when she mewled and stretched out her arm to grasp the hand that was still resting in his lap…

* * *

Buffy froze. She didn't realize what she had done until after she had done it. All she knew was that his arm was curled protectively around her and suddenly her hand was in his. It had been a reflexive action, but suddenly it was all she could think about. What if he thought— Not that it mattered, because she _didn't_. Like him, that is. She weakly tried to extract her hand from his, but by then he had a firm grip on her and she relaxed. Obviously he didn't mind the handholding, since— and wait; when exactly did _she_ stop minding the handholding? 

Buffy pushed all the muddled thoughts aside and relaxed in his embrace. She slowly curled her feet up underneath her and leaned further into him, resting her head against his chest. He smelled so good…she knew he didn't wear cologne and yet the smell was intoxicating. She didn't know what it was, something subtle and masculine and utterly delicious, and it drew her in. She breathed deeply.

Buffy felt completely relaxed and strangely close to him. She knew most everyone on the bus was asleep, but she was wide-awake and knew without looking that he was, too. She looked up to talk to him and wasn't surprised in the least when she found him staring down at her. Her fingers entwined more tightly with his and her breath hitched. Buffy suddenly felt nervous. It was strangely intimate, being here with him like this, despite the fact that they were surrounded by people.

She didn't miss the instant when the fire in his eyes kindled and his gaze bore into her more deeply then it ever should. And like a moth to his flame, she was drawn in. There was a pause and for an instant, Buffy felt like she was on a diving board, teetering on the edge, and if she jumped, she would fall, and sink, and it would be to late to go back. She would drown in him. She saw the muscle in his jaw tic and realized he was facing the same dilemma. Once could be dismissed as a mistake, but twice…

Then she thought, _as long as we fall together…_just as his lips came crashing down on hers, claiming them with a force akin to the wild waves of the ocean, sweeping her away. She resisted for one more second, then took the plunge, kissing him back with a passion that mirrored his own. As the swirling tide of his kiss pulled her to the depths of bliss, she thought, _Who knew drowning could feel so good…?_

* * *

They kissed hungrily for nearly an entire minute until Buffy pulled back slightly. His breath was heaving and he gazed at her with hooded eyes. The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and he leaned in again. He noticed her hesitation and breathed, almost pleadingly, "_Buffy_…" 

"I- I can't…" Her brain was buzzing in ecstasy and she could scarcely think for wanting him, but a trickle of doubt had crept in and suddenly, she had to stop.

He leaned past her lips and nibbled on her earlobe. "Can't?" His breath was hot against her ear and she squirmed. He traced along her jaw line with the tip of his tongue, then brushed his lips along her cheek until he was back at her mouth. "Or won't?"

By that point she was hypnotized by the low tenor of his voice and practically shaking with the need to feel his lips on hers again. "Both," she whispered breathlessly, struggling for control.

His lips brushed hers once more in the faintest of caresses, a far cry from the first kiss, and he leaned his forehead against hers. "Sure?"

She tried to nod, but the captivating lull of his voice had rendered her helpless and any attempt to protest was futile. Taking her silence as assent, he pressed his lips against hers once more, with just a hint of his earlier passion. Nerves caused her to be unresponsive, and so he worked her lips with his, begging entrance. Finally, she opened her mouth to him and his tongue plundered her mouth, taking everything but giving back just as much.

She gripped his shoulders, knotting her fingers in the red cotton fabric just as his hand slipped beneath the duster— _his _duster— that covered her petite frame. He held her to him as their mouths explored. Unconsciously, she flung her leg over him and her left hand slid into his hair. His hand slid from her hip to her thigh and he pulled her closer, to where she was nearly astride him. For nearly ten minutes they carried on like that; barely restrained passion escaping through the motions of their lips and hands. Buffy shifted slightly and started when she felt something press into her thigh. A very big something. She pulled back. Horny Spike was bad.

Well, sure, what could she expect after a while of kissage and some heavy duty groping? But that thing she felt? _Not_ of the good. Yeah, it kind of excited her, to know that she had done that, but truthfully, for the most part, it scared her. She and Angel had never really gone beyond kissing, and she felt her lack of experience quite profoundly at that moment. She knew he didn't expect anything, but that little— or not so little, from the feel of it— reminder of just how male Spike was, made her feel like an inexperienced little girl. Which she kinda was…inexperienced, that is. Her shyness returned full force and a blush crept up her cheeks.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, gazing at her intently, one hand still around her back, the other on her thigh. For the most part, she was still halfway straddling him, and she braced one hand against his chest as she ducked her head. "Nothing…I just…nothing."

His thumb absently began caressing her leg through her jeans. "You ok? I mean, with…this, and all?"

She nodded fiercely. To think of him not kissing her again was unbearable.

"We can stop if you— "

"No." She found her voice. "No stopping. It's just that…never mind."

He was silent.

"It's kind of 'aah!', you know?" she said after a moment, accentuating her words with a little hand gesture. "I mean, this whole thing with— kissing."

"Know what you mean," he said. And he did. Here they were, sworn enemies and all that…well, not as of late, but… And now they were what? Acquaintances who had shared a couple of kisses? No, that wasn't right. They had too much history to be _just _acquaintances. Were they…friends? That didn't feel right either. He was supposed to hate this girl, yet here she was, pliant and willing in his arms. And he was enjoying it. Oh, _hell_, was he enjoying it. So what did that mean exactly? He tilted her chin up towards him and spoke, "Pet, when we do this, why do you do it? What is it to you?"

"Huh? Um…I dunno. Kissing is nice, right? Kissing good?" Her cheeks burned more furiously at the blatant lie. What she meant was, _Kissing **you **is nice, Kissing **you **is good_. Kissing someone for the hell of it wasn't something she did; that in itself should have alerted her to her feelings the night of Anya's party…but she couldn't tell him that, because then he might laugh and…scorn. It was obvious this type of thing didn't really mean anything to Spike. Who knew how many hearts he had broken?

Well, he wasn't about to have hers. Not even part of it. "I mean, it doesn't have to _mean _something, does it?" she continued with an authorative certainty she certainly didn't _feel_. "It's just, ya know…fun." She didn't look up at him because she knew if she did, he would _know _she was lying. He would know and then he would be able to have the satisfaction of lording it over her, gloating that he'd managed to capture her affections, her of all people, she who claimed to hate him. She had no desire to give him that kind of power over her, and so she never looked up. If she had, she might have seen his disappointment; might have noticed the way his face fell; might have realized how deep his feelings actually ran in all of this. Might have, because the mask of practiced indifference slipped so quickly over his features that all the hurt disappeared within a second.

"Yeah…fun." He paused, then in a voice she was more accustomed to hearing from him, continued, "Although that's just the prelude, luv. You looking for a little more intense…_fun_, just say the word. You _know _I'll make it good…"

Buffy's throat tightened and unbidden tears sprang to her eyes. She _knew _that was all he wanted, but somehow hearing it from his lips was infinitely worse. She knew, but somehow she had hoped…

Well obviously she had hoped wrong. The unexpected despair that his words invoked gave way to anger. She pushed away from him and said, "You're disgusting. I can't believe you think— "

"What?" he interrupted. "That you want me? That I make you hot? What am I supposed to think when you're wriggling all over me like a bitch in heat?"

At that, she pushed away from him completely and turned to face the window so that he wouldn't se the hot tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She felt as if she had been slapped. "_Fuck you_," she hissed with as much venom as she could muster, though no feeling was behind it.

Behind her, Spike reached out to touch her shoulder, then pulled back. He opened his mouth to apologize, then closed it. Guilt welled in his chest, but the forced it down. If he kept harboring tender feelings for her, it would only be his downfall. It was best to stop caring before he wouldn't be able to. Steeling his resolve, he rose without a word and moved to the back of the bus, where several giggling flag girls quickly made way for him.

When Buffy saw he was gone, she allowed the tears to flow and lay down across the seat; but not before removing the coat from her shoulders and tossing it despondently to the floor…

* * *

Several hours later, Buffy got off the bus, slowly taking her case and bag and going over to sit by the curb. While she was waiting for her mother's car, Willow ran up and said breathlessly, "Hey Buffy, sorry for not sitting with ya. Who were you by?"

"Spike." Buffy managed an irritated eye roll, when really she just wanted to cry.

"Spike?" Willow grinned conspiratorially and jabbed Buffy with an elbow.

"Yeah. Imagine five hours putting up with that asshole…"

Willow raised a brow.

"Wills, I was right about him all along. All he wanted was… I hate him."

Willow looked confused for a moment. "Did you…kiss him again?"

Buffy nodded miserably. "And the worst part is, I don't hate him." She looked up at Willow as if awaiting her death sentence. "I don't hate him, but I know I should, and I don't know why I don't and— "

"Buffy it's ok. You aren't under any obligation to proceed with loathing as per usual. If you have feelings— "

"But I _shouldn't_. Shouldn't have feelings. All I am to him is another easy lay. He as much as said so himself on the bus."

"He _said _that?" Willow's face contorted into concerned indignation.

"Not outright, but the implications were pretty clear." She trailed an invisible pattern along the cement as her eyes welled up again.

"Oh, Buffy. I'm sorry…" Willow wrapped her arms around the petite blonde in a comforting gesture. A horn beeped and the girls looked up. It was Joyce. As she pulled away from her friend and gave a halfhearted wave, Buffy couldn't help but search around one last time for a familiar bleached blond before she crawled in the car and left…

* * *

Well, this update is a _bit _sooner than usual, hurray! As usual, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll try to have the next one up as soon as possible. Please review! 


	11. Reconciliation

**Previously on Buffy: **The band receives a 1 at contest and on the bus ride home, things get a little…_heated _between Spike and Buffy. In more ways than one. By the end of the trip they're not speaking (big surprise) and Buffy drives home with her mother…

To FunkyDevil: Congrats on the promotion!

* * *

Buffy spent that morning lounging around her house and doing a whole lot of nothing as she brooded. She wasn't sure exactly when the huge rush of feelings had come on, but suddenly, Spike was all she could think about. It killed her that he didn't feel the same. After she showered, pulled on some sweats and a tank top, and fastened her hair into a loose ponytail, she went downstairs in search of nummy goodness, desperate to get her mind off of the peroxide blonde who had captured her affections.

"Ugh, I'm starved!" she exclaimed as she entered the kitchen. "Mom- " She stopped short when she saw her mother sitting at the counter talking to… "_Spike_?"

Her heart did a little flip-flop but she did her best to hide it, putting on a scowl and looking incredulous— the second part wasn't that hard. What was he doing in her _house_? The pair at the counter looked up simultaneously. "Spike?" Buffy's mother questioned as she turned to him. "I thought your name was William…"

"Nickname," he explained. _William? _Had he been trying to impress her mother? Her arms folded across her chest as she eyed him. "Do you mind if I have a word with your daughter, Mrs. Summers?"

"Not at all," the older woman replied doubtfully. She rose. With one last dubious glance back at him, Joyce left the kitchen and headed up the stairs.

Buffy turned slowly to face him, trying to look as annoyed as possible. "What the _hell _are you doing in my house?" she questioned angrily while doing her best to ignore the rapid beat of her heart and the heat that rose in her face due to his mere presence.

"Wanted to talk to you," he said in a low voice, his head tilted downward as he stepped towards her.

"What could you have to say that I could _possibly_ want to hear?" She resisted the urge to back away and stared at him defiantly.

"That I'm a bad, evil man who had no right to say those things to you? That I'm unfit to- " by then he was so close that she could feel his breath with each word he spoke, "-touch you?" He made as if to grip her upper arms and her breath hitched in anticipation even as he jerked his hands away for effect. "Or that- " he dropped to his knees before her, "-you're beautiful, I was wrong," he spread his arms in entreaty, "and…I'm sorry."

Buffy's had fumbled around for the wall behind her, and she braced herself, staring down and him in disbelief. His eyes were naked and raw, and any doubts she'd had of his sincerity vanished. As he kneeled before her, he continued to gaze up at her with eyes that were remorseful yet playful, as if hoping his theatrics would dissipate some of her malevolence towards him. Despite the teasing glint in his eye, she knew he really was sorry.

Her heart melted and she bit her lip, still unable to fathom the fact that he would go this far to expiate for the hurt he had caused. And why? He didn't know how she felt. He didn't know, and yet he'd apologized. Could that mean that _he_- ? No. She squashed down the tiny flutter of hope that rose in her chest. Just because he'd had the decency in him to apologize, it didn't mean…and yet it did.

The Spike she knew apologized to no one. He pushed, _shoved _his way through life and took what he wanted. He was selfish and arrogant and egotistical… _Spike _did not offer apologies. Ever.

Then she remembered Drusilla. The way he doted on her, the way he cared for her…and she knew that Spike did apologize. When he cared enough to do so. She remembered when she had seen him hug his mother that first day she'd gone to his house, inquire about how her day had been…She had longed— even though she had denied it then— for him to show the same concern for her.

And now he was, still kneeling before her, unwaveringly patient as she silently considered him. She knew then that he did care; for the same reason she had hidden her feelings, so had he. Neither of eager to be hurt again, they had ignored what they wanted. Despite the fear, however, he had taken a chance. Now it was her turn…

She smiled, her lips wavering uncertainly. "Well…if this is the best you can do…" she said doubtfully, trying to pretend his contrition hadn't very nearly moved her to tears. He slowly climbed to his feet and grinned down at her.

"It's not. I'm thinking lunch should wrap it up quite nicely though. My treat."

"Well, only because you're paying."

"But of course."

She smiled a genuine smile this time, the familiar butterflies already stretching their wings and taking flight. "Mom!" she called up the stairs. "I'll be back in a while!"

* * *

The time had flown by fast, and before she knew it, two hours had gone by. He had taken her to the Doublemeat Palace and they had talked and laughed over burgers and fries. As they made their way out, they passed Cordelia and a few other members of the cheerleading squad who glanced between the pair dubiously. Everyone knew of the animosity between the two blondes and seeing them together was not unlike seeing a leopard and a wolf strolling down the street together. Odd, disconcerting, and a little scary.

Buffy couldn't help but laugh at their blatant stares as she climbed into the Desoto and Spike questioned, "Something funny, pet?"

She shook her head in amusement and changed his stereo from the punk rock it was currently blaring to the next available station.

"Hey!" he cried, attempting to change it back.

She batted his hand away as the Divinyls 'I Touch Myself' came on.

He smirked as he listened to the lyrics. "Trying to tell me something, luv?"

"Ew!" She whirled on him. "A _world _of no!" She smiled guiltily. "I just…like the song."

"Mm." He nodded. "Sure about that?'

"_So _sure." She smirked. "That's more like _you_ when you think of _me_."

"And if it is?"

"Buffy blanched. "Well, then…" _Did he really? _"Do you really?"

He shrugged noncommittally.

Buffy sank into silence, contemplating this fact. She was more than a little turned on.

"Fueling your fantasies, am I?"

"No!" she protested, a bit too vehemently. "And where are we going?"

"That's for me to know…" he teased her with the familiar cliché.

She rolled her eyes.

When he pulled up in from of the movie theater, she grinned. "So, ya paying for this too?"

He parked and got out of the car. "Still apologizing, aren't I?"

"Actually, I thought that part was over with. This is kinda ranging on date territory…Is this a date?" she ventured. _Please say yes…_

"No!" Spike scoffed. "Are you off your bird?" He snorted and waved his hand dismissively. Her heart fell. He paused, and then asked hopefully, "Do you want it to be?"

She smiled slowly. "Maybe…"

He grinned. "Well then _maybe _it is…"

They walked together towards the theater and slowly, instinctively, both their hands reached out and twined together, almost shyly, which was a first for both the outspoken blondes. Their bodies leaned towards one another and anyone looking on would have seen just another happy couple on their way to a movie…

* * *

The following week was busy and the pair hardly saw each other. That Friday, after school, the gang decided to remain in the band room since they had to be back at five to prepare for the football game anyway. The six of them were lounging on the floor, eating food delivered by Xander and Oz, when a shadow loomed over them. Buffy looked up to see Spike holding a large soda from the gas station, gazing down at her with amusement. "Hey," she chirped, ignoring the heat that effused her being at the sight of him.

"Hey," he replied, sitting casually at her side, as if it were something he did on regular occasion.

"Hey, man," Oz greeted at Spike's nod.

The group looked at Buffy in bewilderment, with the exception of Oz— who merely continued eating, and Willow— who hid her smile as she covertly gazed at her best friend. After several tense minutes of forced conversation, Buffy got up to dispose of her trash and Spike silently rose to follow. Once they were in the hallway, Buffy laughed and commented, "That was awkward."

Spike sipped his drink in agreement. "Could've saved me sooner there, luv."

She shrugged. "It was cute. Plus, you were adjusting. Kinda like when you buy those goldfish and have to leave them in their bag when you stick them in the tank with the other fish so that they don't, ya know, die. Of shock or whatever…"

"You sayin' there's a reason I have to adjust?" he asked as they commenced walking down the hallway.

She realized her faux pas and replied, "Nah, just comparing you to a goldfish…kinda orange and funny-looking."

"You little- "

Buffy burst into hysterics and tore off down the hallway; Spike gave chase.

Soon, though, she was out of sight and he slowed to a walk, listening intently. He noticed the door of the auditorium silently swing shut and pulled it open, staring into the vast darkness of the room. Stepping inside, he allowed the door to close heavily behind him.

His eyes adjusted slightly and he peered around. He'd always had unusually good night vision. "Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell a little…girl," he growled, trying to sound as menacing as possible, and unbeknownst to him, succeeding. He heard her sharp intake of breath from somewhere to his left and began to feel his way in that direction.

Her voice, disembodied, floated from somewhere in the room…"Are you a giant?" She sounded like a frightened child and he grinned. So she wanted to play the victim…"'Cause I'm thinking you're more the big bad wolf," she continued timidly.

"Oh, I'm gonna eat you _all _up, pet…but I think I'm more a vampire…" he murmured dangerously as he came to the wall, realizing he had reached the end of the room. Now where was she...?

"Oh yeah?" came the scared voice again, closer this time. "Well then," she whispered meekly, "I'll be a vampire slayer." Without warning, she jumped onto his back and he rolled to the ground, landing prone beneath her. Now _this_ was a game he liked…With her legs clamped tight around him, holding what felt like a pencil against his chest, she breathed, "Gonna put a wooden stake through your heart."

"Not if I bite you first," he countered seductively, instantly rolling them over so that he was on top. Instead of holding her down, as she had anticipated, he rose and fell back into the darkness and she sat up, confused by his sudden and complete disappearance.

"Spike?" she called out worriedly.

No answer.

Rising, she reached out her arms and felt the wall behind her, leaning on it uncertainly and letting her pencil fall to the ground. Her senses were on alert, every nerve tingling, but it made no difference and suddenly, before she could even process what was happening, he was on her, clamping her arms to her sides and growling softly into her ear. "What kind of vampire slayer," he purred, his fingers digging sensuously into her wrists, "drops her only weapon?"

She could feel his breath on her neck and the faint touch of his lips against her skin. Was he actually going to bite her? The thought was exhilarating and she tensed in anticipation when suddenly, he pushed her more firmly into the wall and pressed his body to hers, effectively stifling any movement she might try to make. She could feel every inch of hard, lean muscle intimately pressed against her curves and was pretty sure she could feel…_that._ Her sudden arousal hit her hard, making her dizzy. Biting back a gasp, she halfheartedly tried to extricate her arms from his unrelenting grasp. She had been turned on before, but _this_… She closed her eyes, trying to quell the overpowering lust she felt.

Just as she wondered what he was going to do next, he lifted his head from the crook of her neck and her eyelids flitted open questioningly. Before she could blink, he crushed his lips to hers with a ferocity that stunned her. In the same motion, he lifted her against the wall and ground his sex between her thighs. She shuddered involuntarily, overwhelmed by sensation.

Her muffled "mmph!" only spurred him on, and he forced his tongue past her lips even as she twined her legs around his waist. True to his word, he was devouring her. Whole. And she didn't mind one bit.

He pushed his hips forward once more, and, when it elicited the same response, he kissed her more voraciously and began thrusting against her rhythmically. Her lips attacked his in kind as he dry-humped her into the wall. As he sped up, Buffy bit back a gasp. She felt him smirk against her lips, but couldn't sum up the mental capacity to care, much less admonish him. This was just too much… The seam in her jeans rubbed against her most sensitive spot with each of his vicious undulations and she clung to his shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut against his onslaught. _Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, ohgodohgodohgodohgod…_

His erection was fully noticeable by now and the monstrous bulge only served to increase their friction. One hand still on her hip, the other began to roam under her shirt, playing with the soft skin beneath and trailing slowly upward.

She tensed…the only one who had ever gone this far was Angel…Before she could decide whether to protest or not, his hand was cupping her breast, squeezing ever so slightly, and her mind went blank again. His ministrations were gentle despite the hard movements of his mouth and hips. _Oh god, this boy is talented…_

His thumb caressed her already hard nipple through her lace bra and she moaned into his mouth. By then, she was propelling her hips against his with equal fury and in response, he squeezed harder, causing her to yelp in surprise. He grinned into their kiss once more and Buffy threw her head back. She was so close…she was about to—

Light flashed through her closed lids and, her eyes snapped open in confusion. The entire auditorium was illuminated and, when she turned her head towards the lighting control, she could see the startled eyes of Andrew and Jonathan, geeks extraordinaire, staring back at her.

Panting, Spike swiveled his head around to glare at he two nerds, causing them to quail and flee. Spike turned back to her and kissed her lips, but Buffy awkwardly extricated herself from his embrace and he smiled at her, giving her nipple one last pinch before removing his hand from beneath her blouse.

Buffy leaned back against the wall, still breathing heavily, and said, after a moment of heavy silence, "Wow, we should uh, go back, huh?" Her cheeks burned as she stared at the man before her. She was completely flustered, not able to believe what they'd been doing in the dark moments earlier, yet he seemed completely composed, as if he did this sort of thing all the time.

Well, of course he did… Feeling the familiar prickle of shame and anger, she pushed them aside. They'd already been through this, she was certain— well, fairly certain, at least— that this meant something to him, and until he showed her otherwise, she would give him the benefit of the doubt.

As they headed out of the auditorium, she started when she felt his hand reach out to grasp hers. Slowly, she relaxed and twined her fingers with his. When they got to the band room, they wordlessly broke apart and Buffy silently lamented the loss of the blissful contact. Neither was ready for the questions that would inevitably follow if they were seen holding hands, so the separation was necessary.

Buffy went to her band locker to get her shorts and t-shirt that she would wear under her band uniform and shrieked when Willow jumped at her, knocking her against the door. "What happened?" the redhead demanded excitedly. "Tell me something happened…I saw the was he was looking at you!"

Buffy grinned. "Something happened. Whoo, did something happen!"

"Buffy!" Willow shrieked.

"He chased me into the auditorium— we were playing tag— and then he shoved me up against a wall and kissed me." Buffy bounced up and down happily.

Willow gasped, "That's kinda kinky…"

"Then," Buffy lowered her eyes naughtily. "He kinda touched me," she gestured towards her breasts, "and then Jonathan and Andrew caught us."

Willow's eyes widened. "That's so sexy!" she breathed. "Except for the whole Jonathan and Andrew part…" she paused. "Do you think they'll tell?"

"Nah," Buffy replied confidently. "They're probably too afraid of what Spike would do to them."

The girls smiled secretively as they walked through the band room into the main building. "I'm so happy for you!" Willow exclaimed as they entered the restroom.

Buffy beamed. From her stall, she said, "I _really _like him, Wills. I dunno when or why, but it's like, he's different this year…or I'm different. Am I different?"

"Same old Buffy," Willow replied. "Same old Spike. New insight, maybe?"

"Don't go all analytical girl on me…"

"I just mean your personalities are the same, but maybe your perspectives have changed enough to let you into those personalities and see things in each other that were always there in the first place."

Buffy pondered this. "Or maybe it's just the school system."

Upon Willow's silence, she elaborated, "If we hadn't been paired for three classes, and Mrs. Laurens hadn't paired us for projects, none of this might've happened. School sucks, but it always did have those good-for-you ulterior motives…"

"Altruistic motives, you mean?"

"Yeah, those," Buffy agreed.

As they emerged from their respective stalls, Willow couldn't help but think, _Or maybe it's just fate…_

* * *

Hey everyone, this chapter was supposed to be up _much _sooner, but then I got grounded for two weeks and wasn't allowed on the computer, and then _my_ summer band started, and as I'm section leader this year, I was way busy. Then school started and, well, you know the drill… 


	12. The Game

**Previously on Buffy:** Spike apologizes for the way he treated Buffy on the bus and takes her out for dinner and a movie to atone. A week later they hang out at school as they wait to get ready for that evening's football game…

* * *

Buffy grinned at something Tara said as they walked in full uniform towards the brightly lit stadium. The game was about to start and the band was getting ready to troop around the field. As they settled themselves into a block formation that was arranged by section, the drum majors called attention and Buffy straightened. She heard the _Click! Click! Click! _of Spike's snare, and the drummers launched into a cadence as the entire band stepped off in unity. 

The stadium was dazzling and loud, filled with talking spectators, giggling cheerleaders, and running children. All waited for the game to start. Once they had marched around the entire track, the band filed into the reserved section of the stadium, row by row, until it was filled. Buffy looked out over the field as she remained at attention, scanning over the football players as they warmed up, thinking, _Angel should be out there…_

The thought of him hurt less, however, and Buffy realized it didn't really hurt at all. She missed him, but it was no longer the desperate longing that clawed at her, the ache that left a hole in her heart. It was calm, peaceful; no need in it, no want. Just a quiet tribute to what had been.

She glanced down and saw Spike, hammering away on his snare, cocky smirk in place as he showed off, twirling and flipping his stick in his left hand as he played a complex rhythm while his right kept a steady but racing pulse. He looked up, directly meeting her stare, and Buffy blushed at the intensity of his gaze. He grinned as the cadence came to an end, slamming his sticks in the final beat.

Giles conducted the national anthem and then the fight song as the team ran out. The band went to at ease and Buffy removed her hat and marching gloves, setting her clarinet down on the bleachers behind her. Tara was to her left, Willow was directly in front of her with the flute section, while Xander was in the row behind her with the saxes. The only one not in speaking distance was Anya, who was several rows back with the trumpets.

Buffy watched the game with interest, dancing happily with Willow and Tara when the drumline launched into a cadence. Spike had rolled his uniform sleeves up to his elbows and was grinning cockily as he led the beat with complete confidence. Somehow, he managed to make even the band uniforms look sexy, and she admired the way his forearms rippled as he played. Eventually, she yanked herself out of the reverie to focus on the game. With the gossip of her friends surrounding her, it proved to be a difficult task and she talked and laughed the first two quarters away until it was halftime and the band went out to perform.

After that, the game went by quickly, and soon they were back in the band room, changing back into their street clothes and planning on where to go eat. Sunnydale had won 32-17, giving them plenty of reason to celebrate. They finally settled on a pizza place on the far side of town.

Just as Buffy was about to climb into Anya's car to meet the others, she heard, "Summers!"

Whirling around, she was met with the sight of Spike jogging to meet her. She suddenly wished she'd brushed her hair. "You, uh, wanna ride?" he asked her, running a hand through his white-blonde locks. It had come ungelled and Buffy resisted the urge to run her fingers through it.

Anya, halfway inside her pink bug, glanced between the pair curiously. Seeing Buffy's hesitation, she said, "Oh, don't mind me. If you want to go off and have orgasms instead of pepperoni, that's your prerogative. I certainly don't blame you…"

"Anya! Me and Spike don't…have orgasms! Please! I don't even like— orgasms. We're not…together like that." She had been about to reply with her usual 'I hate Spike's but this thing between them wouldn't let her. She'd seen his hurt when he'd anticipated her words and knew she couldn't do that to him, no matter what façade they might be projecting.

"Oh," Anya replied, starting her car. "So you _are _together then? In what way, if 'not like that'?" Buffy gaped like a fish as Anya backed out of her parking space and said through the open window, "It's not such a surprise, you know. The sexual tension between you two is like a strobe light. Flashy and annoying and glaringly obvious. It makes you wish you could just turn it off. If sex is the only way to turn it off… Let's just say if Spike is your orgasm friend, I certainly don't mind." With that, she drove off, leaving Buffy mortified.

Spike stared dubiously after her, "Always liked that one. Sure has a way of simpling things up, she does." He placed his arm around Buffy's shoulders as the walked towards the Desoto. "So are we 'together' then?" he asked.

"Anya seems to think so."

"'m not asking bout what Anya thinks…" he replied.

He climbed into the driver's side and she into the passenger's as she thought. Was she ready for that? To be with him? They'd been getting along and she liked him— a lot. Plus they had kissed…but could they really put four years of animosity and hatred behind them? She glanced over at him as he gunned the engine, thinking over the past couple of months. They could, she decided. Or at least, they could sure as hell try. Somehow, it was easier to think than to say aloud however, and she said meekly, "Well, we're together right now…"

Spike replied gruffly, "You know what I mean, Summers." He steeled himself for her rejection as he drove down the darkened streets towards the outskirts of Sunnydale.

"I- I think so…" God, could she _sound _more retarded? "We are, right?" she rushed on, suddenly in need of affirmation. "I mean- "

Spike chuckled. "Yeah, Summers, we are. Just needed you to make up your bloody mind…'bout damn time, too."

She blushed. Suddenly the car swerved off the road and Buffy looked around urgently for another car. "Spike, what- "

She was cut off when he killed the motor and pulled her against him. "Need to consummate our newfound relationship, yeah?"

Her eyes widened in his embrace. "C- consummate?" she choked out.

He grinned despite the lust burning in his eyes. "Take it easy, luv. I'm not pushing for anything you're not ready for." With that, he dipped his head down and captured her lips in a chaste kiss. He pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. She waited for him to kiss her again, biting her lip impatiently when he didn't. She noticed the beginning of a smirk gracing his lips.

"What?" she asked finally.

"'m waiting for my lady to give me a kiss," he replied casually.

"Oh," she answered. Then, "why can't you do it?"

"Why can't you?" he countered, pulling away and leaning back on the seat.

"I like it when you kiss me," she mumbled with a pout. She wasn't lying, but she wasn't telling the whole truth either. The thought of kissing him made her oddly nervous, and she wasn't sure why. Well, ok, she _was _sure, and her dilemma had a lot to do with self-doubt. It wasn't so bad when _he_ was kissing _her_; all she had to do was kiss back. But _this _way…what if she was bad? She swallowed nervously as she stared at him, leaning back with his eyes closed. "Spike?"

He opened his eyes and turned to face her, amused by her discomfort. "What's that, pet?"

"I- I can't."

He raised a brown at this admission. "I seem to recall a number of occasions where you _could_," he reminded her.

"But, but that was different…" She turned on the seat to face him, curling her feet up under her.

"How so, luv?" He seemed genuinely perplexed now.

"You were with the kissing and I was with the…being kissed," she replied lamely, waving her hand around emphatically.

He found her adorable. "What difference does it make?"

"A whole world of difference!" She paused. "What if- " She closed her eyes and uttered in all in one breath, "WhatifI'mbad?"

His face cleared in understanding. "C'mere, pet."

She opened her eyes and scootched towards him.

He pulled her onto his lap to where she was straddling him. Her eyes widened when she felt him, hard against her. "But we haven't even…"

"This is what you do to me, Summers," he said, staring at the petite blonde in his arms. She shifted nervously against him and he suppressed a groan. He stilled her movements with his hands on her hips and continued, "There's no way you could _ever _be bad. Unless I want you to be." He grinned playfully at her and she smiled. He turned serious and said, "Now c'mon, pet…"

She inhaled deeply and stared at his lips, apprehensively wetting her own.

Spike stared at her, breathing heavily. God, he wanted her…

Finally, she leaned in and placed a tentative kiss on his smooth lips. His fingers pressed deeper into her thighs, but other than that, he was unresponsive.

She sat back against him and studied him, then leaned in again, a little surer. She gave him a small peck and then nibbled in his lower lip, cupping his face in one hand while using the other to brace herself against his shoulder. Tracing his upper lip with the tip of her tongue, she inhaled deeply before pressing her lips to his once more in a sweet gesture.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Spike growled and pulled her against his rock-hard erection, attacking her mouth ferociously.

She yelped as she found herself suddenly pinned beneath him as he sucked on her neck. "Did you just…growl?" she panted.

"Maybe," he replied gruffly as he traced his tongue along her collarbone.

She clamped her knees around his torso and gasped, still overwhelmed by the suddenness of his onslaught. "It was sexy…"

He crawled back up her body and grinned down at her. "Course it was, it was me, wasn't it?"

She rolled her eyes, but privately agreed with him. Everything about him was sexy and she felt consumed by lust. When he kissed her again, she kissed him back just as fiercely, pushing her hands under his duster to cling to him. The heady passion eventually gave way to slow making out and Buffy used this opportunity to explore his mouth with her tongue, running her hands slowly over his arms and back, feeling the definition of each muscle and memorizing every contour.

Finally, after at least fifteen minutes, she couldn't take any more without wanting to rip his clothes off and do something she knew she wasn't ready for, so she threw her head back against the seat and panted from their well spent efforts. He continued to hover over he, peppering her jaw with light kisses and absently stroking her hair.

He wanted nothing more than to take her there in his car and to hell with the consequences. Had it been any other girl, he would have made his intentions clear and persisted in his efforts until she acquiesced— which usually didn't take much— or driven her home— which wouldn't give him what he wanted. But with Buffy, it was different. _She _was different, and made him want to be different as well. She was special, and if she needed time, he would give her all the time in the world. Even if, like he said, he wanted to fuck her against the seat of his car like there was no tomorrow…

He nearly groaned aloud at the thought, and, with great difficulty, rolled off of her. He sat back against the driver's seat and leaned his head back, steadying his lust with a few deep breaths. He didn't look at her, for he knew the sight of her lying against his seat flushed from their make out session, green eyes sparkling and lips moist, would most certainly kill him. He felt her sit up, and when she laid her head on his arm, he shuddered with not touching her. "Are you ok?" she asked timidly.

"Fine, pet," he replied as he started the engine. She continued to lean against him, and against his better judgment, he wrapped his arm around her. She seemed content, his display of affection allaying her fears that he was upset with her. As he drove, she absently stroked his chest through the tee, and he gritted his teeth against the new wave of lust her ministrations ignited. After what seemed like an eternity— at least to him— they arrived at the pizzeria and she bounced to the door as he got out of the car, leaning his arms against it to calm his raging hormones.

"Come on, Spike!" she called impatiently from the sidewalk.

He sighed and walked towards her, the thought of seeing Harris effectively quelling his hard-on. When he reached her, she twined her fingers with his and pulled open the door. As they came to the rear of the establishment, they were greeted with the sight of two tables on separate sides of a low dividing wall. Their hands subtly came apart. On one side were the drummers and flag girls who, upon seeing him, beckoned excitedly, and on the other, were Buffy's mates. His eyes flickered to Oz, who had easily chosen the Scooby table over the drummers; he decided to do the same. Ignoring the indignant remarks he received from his friends— he'd explain to them on Monday— he boldly took a place at Buffy's table.

"What took you so long?" Xander remarked to Buffy, blatantly ignoring Spike's presence.

She flushed and said, "Car trouble…" peeking sideways at Spike for assistance.

"Yeah, we uh, hit a couple _bumps _in the road…" He grinned as Buffy ducked her head even further, biting into a slice of pizza.

"I once heard a rumor that an orgasm is comparable to racing over a speed bump," Anya commented casually. "Completely unfounded, of course…" Buffy choked on her sip of soda and Spike grinned. Maybe hanging with her group tonight wouldn't be so bad after all… "So, were did you say you were again, Buffy?" the trumpet player continued.

_Oh yeah_, Spike thought as the little blonde was put on the spot once more. _This'll be interesting…_

* * *

Another long wait for a disappointingly short update, I know. Once again, I claim busy and apologize. Please stay with me guys. You all know I never abandon a story, as that's a pet peeve of mine, and this WILL get finished. Eventually. I promise to work harder to update more often, but school's just stressful. Senior year is a bitch what with SATs, ACTs, and college applications… 


	13. Trick or Treat

**Previously on Buffy: **The gang attends one of the weekly football games and goes for pizza afterwards— with a rather _interesting_ pit-stop on the way… Buffy and Spike finally decide to give dating a try.

* * *

By Halloween, Buffy and Spike were still a couple— albeit secretly. Buffy wanted to tell her friends, she really did, but she was too afraid of their reactions. Willow was, for the most part, supportive. Buffy had told her about Spike and the redhead seemed genuinely happy for her friend. Anya, too, had made it clear that she had no objections to a relationship between the two blondes. She wasn't too worried about Tara or Oz, either. In truth, her reluctance to bring the relationship out in the open was due to Xander, and of course, the rest of the world. 

While he didn't loathe the bleached drummer— in fact, he kind of admired him; Buffy knew this, though her friend would never admit to it— Xander was well aware of Spike's reputation with women. As Buffy's surrogate older brother, he would object vehemently to the couple in an attempt to protect her. It was just better if they kept it private. Or so Buffy told herself.

There was a Halloween thing going on that night at the Bronze, and in order to be admitted, one had to be in costume. Buffy was attending as Little Red Riding Hood. She was just putting the finishing touches on her costume when a horn beeped outside. She flew down the stairs and waved goodbye to her mother as she slammed out the door.

Xander was dressed as a soldier; Willow as some sort of…hooker? She had to admit her best friend looked good, but with the tiny black skirt, up-do, midriff baring top, and bright scarlet lipstick, Buffy wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to be. Anya was dressed as a bunny, Tara as a witch, and Oz as…himself? He caught her dubious stare as she entered the car and lifted the corner of his jacket in explanation. Underneath was a nametag that proclaimed 'God'. Whatever. Buffy noticed that he and his girlfriend had the least costume-like costumes and mused a second on the coincidence of it.

She was meeting Spike at the Bronze. Too much togetherness on their part would make the relationship blatantly obvious, so they'd agreed to meet up near the dance floor. Upon arrival, she scanned the crowd eagerly for his presence and tried not to be obvious in her rushing over to greet him. His back was turned and to her, he appeared to be dressed in his normal garb, so she tapped inquiringly on his shoulder. "Where's your- "

She yelped as he turned to face her, stumbling back slightly in surprise. His forehead was edged in ridges and his brow heavier. He was sporting some sort of yellow contacts and fangs protruded from his upper lip. He smirked evilly at her and said nonchalantly, "Hey, pet."

"Spike, your…" She reached up to trail her fingers over the bumps on his forehead. "How'd you do this?" she questioned.

"Man's got to have his secrets, luv," he responded with a leer. "Nice outfit, by the way."

She fingered her pigtails nervously under his blatant stare. He licked his lips, tracing his tongue over the fangs, and Buffy stepped back, steeling herself against his predatory gaze. God, he looked hot… Her actions were halted, however, when she found herself backed against one of the large beams supporting the balcony. She gulped.

Spike closed in and fingered the frilly hem of her short dress. She bit her lip and looked up at him in trepidation. Leaning over her, he pushed the skirt aside and stroked her thigh. She squeaked and subtly ran her foot up the beam behind her, bending her knee and allowing him a better grip. Buffy could swear she saw the gold eyes flash as he ran his fingers slowly higher, nearly to her panties, stroking up and down, up…and down.

When she felt his fingers brush the edge of her lace underwear, she wriggled back and grabbed at his hand in protest. She was nearly paralyzed by lust, but was all too aware of the reality of the situation. She was letting Spike fondle her in _public_. Frantically, she pushed his hand down and adjusted her skirt, breathing hard, face aflame. _Cheap slut, thy name is Buffy…_ While she was preoccupied, he placed his hands on either side of her head, effectively trapping her in place. When she looked up, she met the sight of his vampiric features mere inches from her face. "Spike," she mumbled softly, hypnotized by his golden stare.

His only response was labored breathing as he stepped closer and leaned down to nuzzle her neck. It was way wiggy, being with him like this when he looked all…evil, but also kinda hot. She was beginning to understand the whole vamp-fetish thing some people had… "Wanna get out of here, pet? We can do some trick or treating," he grinned playfully at her, "at my place."

She gulped and managed, "I- I can't. My friends…"

He shrugged, stepping back. "Suit yourself, then. But I could have guaranteed one hell of a treat…providing you pulled all the right tricks, o' course." He raised a brow and receded back into the crowd, leaving her to wonder if she had really made the right choice…

* * *

_Dammit_, she wondered hours later, _why can't I have a normal boyfriend? _She was still giddy with the thought of Spike being her boyfriend, even after two weeks. _One who isn't all mysterious and seductive and elusive and sometimes fangy?_ She sighed. Who was she kidding? All those things were part of what made him so damn sexy and she knew it. 

She rolled over in her bed and closed her eyes, letting her mind wander to images of vampire!Spike doing naughty, wicked things to her. Mmm, biting… she grinned, only to be abruptly startled out of her reverie by a tap on her window.

She looked over to see Spike grinning at her through the glass and she immediately jumped up to let him in. Thank god she had left her makeup on…

"Spike! What are you doing here?" she hissed as he crawled through her window. She noted with some dismay that he had removed the vampire getup.

"My girl doesn't wanna spend time with me at my place, so I came to her…"

Buffy preened inwardly at being called 'his girl'. "It's three in the morning!" she reminded him.

"What of it?" he reparteed, eyeing her lasciviously as he moved past to sprawl across her bed. He gave her a suggestive wink and continued, "What ever are you going to do with me now that I'm here?"

"Um, get you _out_," she answered. "If Mom finds out- "

"She'll blow a bloody gasket?" he finished for her. "When are you _ever _going to let loose, Summers? Even if your Mum found out— which she won't, because I can be _very_ quiet— it wouldn't be the end of the world."

"No," she replied. "Just the end of my social life."

He clucked his tongue reprovingly. "Now, now, don't be dramatic. Live a little. C'mere…"

She remained where she was.

"Suit yourself," he said. "But I'm not moving. Wanna sleep, you're gonna have to do so right here next to me…" He patted the spot invitingly and shut his eyes. She stood for a moment, silently debating with herself. Finally she resigned and crawled into bed next to him. Almost immediately, his arm snaked around her waist while his dexterous fingers toyed with the hem of her tank top.

"You do realize my mom's gonna kill me for this, right?"

"Mmm, sure, pet…" he murmured sleepily, leaning forward to brush a kiss along her shoulder.

"Stop trying to seduce me," she whispered.

"Why? It working?"

"Maybe just a little…"

"Well, maybe I should try a little harder then."

"No- " Before she could utter another word of protest, he had flipped her onto her back and was now hovering over her, a hungry look in the azure depths of his eyes as he traced a pattern over the fabric of her shirt. Lower…and lower…

She gasped and arched up into him when he finally reached the hem of her shirt and pushed his hand up underneath, roving dangerously higher with each caress. Buffy struggled beneath him and sought to push his hand back down, her eyes wide with apprehension. "Spike, don't. You can't…"

Ignoring her protests, he continued his exploration and leaned down to lick the hollow of her throat. She moaned and immediately flushed a bright red, "S- sorry," she whispered, embarrassed by her outburst. The few times Angel had touched her when they made out, she'd never uttered a sound. Of course, that had been above clothes…

He lifted his head as his fingers crept stealthily higher. "No need to apologize, pet. Just let's me know I'm doin' my job," he added with a leer. "'sides, was the sexiest sound I ever heard."

Her cheeks flamed up again and she pulled him back down to kiss him, their tongues mingling hotly. Finally, Spike's hand reached its intended destination and Buffy squeaked as a burst of moisture seeped from between her thighs. She wasn't wearing a bra— Spike was the first to—

"Mnyah!" she gasped as his thumb tweaked her nipple and he palmed her bare breast, kneading it gently.

"Take it back," he muttered against her lips, breaking away to suck on her neck once more. "_That _was the sexiest sound I've ever heard." Buffy was beginning to note— with some pleasure— that he was oddly fixated with her neck. She liked it. Writhing against him, she ground her sex against the bulge in his pants as he pushed his other hand under her shirt to give her left breast a rough squeeze.

She gripped his forearms as he straddled her, working her supple flesh with skilled hands. In one swift movement, he pushed her pink tank top up and over her head, causing her arms to rise up and over as well, and he left the shirt tangled around her wrists, pinning them there with his left hand. His right stroked the valley between her breasts and came to rest against her slender hip, thumb caressing her flesh in lazy circles.

"So, Little Red," he drawled, gaze unabashedly appraising her trapped form. "Whatcha gonna do now that the Big Bad's gotcha?" Her eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed as she panted with lust. He smirked and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "You gonna scream for me? You gonna let me eat you _all _up?" With that, he lowered his mouth to her breasts and licked between them, grazing his lips up to take her left nipple into his mouth. The second he did, she bucked up against him and tried to free her hands, letting out a strangled gasp. He looked up. "Now, now, none of that, little Red. You can thrash about and wriggle against me all you like, but don't you dare try to escape till the Big Bad's good and done with you, hear?"

She nodded fiercely, willing to do anything to feel his mouth on her sensitive flesh once more. He gave her a tiny grin, then turned his attention to her right breast, tracing her nipple with the tip of his tongue, then sucking it inside, swirling his tongue all around the swollen nub. He finally released her hand and roughly fondled the other breast while he continued on with the right, making loud sucking noises as he did so. She let out a faint "_ooh_" and wrapped her legs around his torso, grinding against him. He grinned into her flesh and bit down on her nipple, worrying it between his teeth. She gave a shrill squeak and he slid one hand down her stomach to the waistband of her pink pajama pants. When he started to tug them down, however, she stopped him and he looked up.

She shook her head breathlessly. He cocked an eyebrow and gave her a quick kiss just above the waistband of her low-slung pjs, then began to crawl his way back up her body, occasionally peppering kisses here and there, until he reached her lips. By the time he did so, she was on _fire_. That kiss below the naval had really done her in. She was ablaze with lust, and the second his lips met hers, she devoured his mouth hungrily, kissing him with everything she had.

In response to her onslaught, he gave a low moan and ground his denim-clad erection into the junction between her thighs. She panted heavily and her eyes went wide as he did this. He seemed to sense her reaction and he grinned into their kiss, nipping her lower lip playfully. One hand reached around to cup her ass and the other continued to fondle her breast.

As they continued to grind slowly together, seeking unattainable friction through layers of cotton and denim, the bed began to utter nearly inaudible squeaks. Suddenly, Spike flipped Buffy on top of him and she gasped. He grinned up at her and entangled his fingers in honey-blonde locks to pull her down for another kiss, when he stopped.

There was the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the hallway and Spike jumped up. Buffy looked at him questioningly as he deposited her on the bed, but he merely gave her a quick peck and disappeared out her window, leaving it slightly ajar as he made his exit. She was about to get up and see what his problem was, when there was a tap on her door. She dove under her covers, quickly yanking her pajama tee underneath with her.

"Buffy?" Her mother's head appeared in the doorway and Buffy responded with a sleepy,

"Huh?"

"Are you alright? I heard noise…"

"Oh, yeah. Can't sleep is all."

"Oh." To Buffy's dismay, Joyce came into the room and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Is anything bothering you, honey?"

"No." Buffy pulled her covers up further. "Why?"

"Just wondering." Joyce patted her leg through the sheet and continued. "It doesn't have anything to do with that Spike character, does it?"

Buffy's face flamed up. "Spike? No, why? Why would it have anything to do with Spike?"

Joyce shook her head. "I don't know. He always seems to be giving you trouble. I suppose he's a nice enough fellow, but I'm not sure I completely trust him."

Buffy's defenses immediately went up. "Why not?" she asked, trying to keep the indignation out of her voice.

"Oh, I can't say. I mean, he's a sweet boy, and polite as can be. I suppose I just can't trust someone who's hurt my baby girl so much…" Truth be told, Joyce did like Spike, but from all the things Buffy had told her over the years, she couldn't quite shake that inkling of mistrust that she clung to. She knew he was a good guy underneath it all, but maternal instinct kept her wary of someone Buffy was so eager to complain about. However, when she took into consideration her daughter's tendency to judge, she found it hard to completely dislike the boy.

"Oh. Well, he's not so bad this year, Mom. He's…better. More mature and stuff."

"That's good to know, sweetheart." With one final pat, Joyce stood and kissed the top of her head. "Night."

"Goodnight, Mom." When her door finally clicked shut once more, Buffy breathed a sight of relief. After a moment, she rolled over, closed her eyes, and lost herself to dreams of forests, red capes, and Big Bad vampires…

* * *

Hey! Just in time for Halloween, right? Lol, I know, nice treat. It was actually supposed to come out Halloween _day, _or at least I planned it that way…but once again, busy. Anyway…I'm hoping you all will continue to read and review cuz I'm really trying to update while dealing with school and a massive case of writer's block. Anyone have the cure? (reviews! hint, hint…) Well, I hope you enjoyed! Leave me a review and let me know… 


	14. Dinner

**Previously on Buffy: **The gang attends a Halloween party at the Bronze. Big Bad vamp Spike seduces Little Red Riding Hood and afterwards, there's some naughty fun up in Buffy's bedroom…

* * *

The next morning, upon seeing Spike, Buffy flushed an impossible shade of red while he merely flashed her his patented, award-winning smile. She bit her lip as they passed one another and he gave her rear a subtle pinch, smirking to himself when he heard her startled gasp. Buffy whirled around, smoothing down her skirt, eyes wide. She couldn't believe he just…and in the middle of the hallway, too! Suddenly aware of the stares she was receiving as she gawped, she hurried on to class. 

Willow smiled as the blonde took a seat by her side. "Buffy, guess what?" She rushed on without waiting for her friend to respond, "Oz asked me to go up to LA with him for the weekend! And my mom said all right! Just me, him, and lotsa smoochies…"

Buffy grinned at her friend. "Go Wills! And what brought about this sudden spontaneity?"

"Well, Oz had some stuff to do for the Dingoes, but he said he'd been wanting us to be alone for a while, so poof! Road-trippy goodness."

The blonde mock-glared. "I want a road trip and smoochies," she whined.

Willow leaned over and whispered, "Tell that to Spike. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to oblige."

"Um, Wills, no one even knows we're dating. Kinda hard to explain the whole going-away-together. Plus, my mom would, like, so freak."

"When _are_ people going to know you're dating?" Willow questioned. "I mean, I know you guys have had your differences, but I seriously doubt your head would explode if people found out. Plus, it's not like he's some deformed, Quasimodo type. Spike is quite the hottie. I bet it would get a lot of girls to back off if they knew you guys were an item…"

Buffy heaved a sigh. "I don't know why it's so hard to admit," she said. "I guess I should… tell people, huh?"

Willow nodded as their teacher stepped up to the board and made a call for homework. Buffy returned the nod and passed up her half-finished math sheet, frowning thoughtfully.

* * *

That afternoon in Physics, during their lab, Buffy whispered to Spike, "Does anyone know about, you know, us?" 

He looked up and replied slowly, "No…should they?"

"I- I'm tired of us being a secret, Spike. I'll make Xander understand and, and, you're quite the hottie and I'm sick of other girls hitting on you!" she blurted out suddenly.

He grinned and gave her an appraising look. "Quite the hottie, huh?"

"Out of all that, that _would _be the one thing you'd choose to focus on…"

He smirked. "Well, pet, you're not so bad yourself, and I certainly don't mind laying claim to you. It'll get all those drooling Neanderthals off your back…"

She rolled her eyes and continued, "So, I'll tell Xander and we stop hiding?"

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed.

"Good."

"Good."

She was left speechless when he leaned over and planted one on her before turning back to his worksheet with a sly grin.

* * *

Buffy stretched and gave her punching bag a few practice hits before turning to the rest of the class. Nikki Wood, the teacher, got their attention before starting into the routine, and, half an hour later, Buffy was sweating profusely. After the water break, Nikki announced, "I've decided we could finish up the class with some sparring." 

Buffy grinned at Kendra, who stood next to her. "Nothing like some good old gratuitous violence to wrap up the day…"

"Yes," Kendra replied with a small smile of her own. "I find hitting people does well to relieve my stress." The girls had been paired against one another before and had found themselves to be pretty equally matched, with Buffy sometimes gaining the upper hand.

"Kendra, pair up with Darla," Nikki ordered. "Buffy, you're with Glory."

Rolling her eyes, Buffy headed over to the bitchy, vapid blonde just in time to hear her say, "Yeah, that Spike guy? Kinda clueless in the hair department, but mmm, I'll bet he has a _body._" She stared off dreamily for a second. "I'd love to take that boy for a test drive, if you know what I mean," she sang.

Buffy's eyes narrowed as the girl turned away from one of her doting minions. "Less talk, more hit," she said simply.

Glory scoffed. "Yeah, let's get through this already so I can go home. Cause _you_? _Such _a waste of my time." She stared at her nails disinterestedly, then landed a swift, hard blow across Buffy's cheek before the other girl even had time to blink. Face hitting wasn't allowed, but Buffy wasn't one to open her mouth and complain… she just fought back.

In no time, they were a flurry of movement as they each landed frighteningly accurate kicks and punches. When Glory landed a roundhouse to Buffy's shoulder, the blonde used the momentum to drop to the floor and knock Glory's feet out from under her, quickly jumping back up. The other girl aimed a side kick to Buffy's abdomen, but the blonde dodged and whirled around with her own kick, effectively knocking Glory onto her ass, where she sat, winded.

Buffy smiled at the look of discomfort on the other girl's features. Nikki helped Glory to her feet and congratulated Buffy on her victory. She was now officially the best fighter in the class. As she left, she thought, _That'll teach her to talk about my man…_

* * *

Several days later, Buffy lay on her bed, giggling quietly into the phone as moonlight streamed though her window. Spike was telling her about how Dawn, the freshman trumpet player, had attempted to talk to him at lunch. Apparently, she had blushed, stammered, fallen all over herself, and then made a hasty retreat. Buffy felt sorry for her, but the fact that she had even _attempted _to come on to Spike pretty much put a damper on the pity. Hence the giggles. 

"Laughing at others' misfortunes, are you?" he questioned, his own smile evident in his voice.

"At least I'm not detailing my conquests," she shot back.

"Oh, so you _do_ have conquests? Who are the wankers so I can beat them to a bloody pulp?"

Buffy "tsk"ed, languidly stretching her limbs. "No gratuitous violence on my behalf," she reprimanded playfully.

"Oh, I assure you, pleasure's all mine. Nothin' to do with your behalf."

"I dunno whether I should be relieved or hurt by that statement," she replied.

"Oh, I think relief is definitely in order. 'specially seeing as how I'm lying."

She smiled. "Oh, all better then," she joked.

"Mmm," he murmured in agreement.

"Tell me a secret," she demanded, rolling onto her side.

"Secret? Such as?"

"Something no one knows. But me."

"Know what a secret is, luv."

"Then tell me one."

He thought. "I'm allergic to garlic," he announced finally.

She pouted. "That's not a good secret. Just a little-known fact," she reasoned. "I know. Tell me how you started playing the piano."

There was a pause.

"Spike?"

"Started 'round when I was five or so," he said finally. "That's 'bout when I got serious about it, anyway. My dad, he was a musician, real gentleman. Played piano, violin, cello, guitar… He died when I was four. I guess I felt music was the one way I could stay close to him. Had my mum teach me. She was real proud, told me I'd be just like 'im, so I kept it up. When we moved to the States, right b'fore high school, she thought I should play another instrument, so I took up drums. Took lessons, and when tryouts for the line came about, I made snare straight away. The rest is history, I guess."

Buffy was silent for a minute. "That's really sweet, Spike. Impressive, too." She smiled to no one in particular in the dark of her room.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Right then. So what about your da'? What ever happened to him?"

Buffy's smile disappeared. "He and Mom divorced eighth grade, I started getting in trouble, so me and Mom moved to Sunnydale. 'A fresh start', she called it. I went with 'sucky'. I met Willow and Xander, we started high school together, and…" she trailed off. "My dad visited once or twice," she whispered. "Then he just stopped. He always made plans; weekends, birthdays, all that. He always bailed with a card, some money, and a lame excuse. I have no idea where he is now."

"'m sorry, pet. Sounds like a complete git to me…"

She grinned slightly. "Yeah. And a bloody wanker, too."

At that, he laughed aloud and she soon joined him, falling into hysterics. If she had been asked why she was laughing, she wouldn't have known, only that it felt right. Spike had the nicest laugh…

Minutes later, after their mirth subsided, Spike cleared his throat. "Mum's been askin' about you a lot," he informed her. "How you are and all that. She's really taken a liking to you."

"That's nice." And it was. She grinned in genuine pleasure. "Tell her I said hi."

"Well, would you like to come over for dinner this weekend and tell her yourself?" he asked.

She gulped, taken aback. Dinner. With his Mom. It wasn't such a big deal and yet it was. Dinner. Yikes. "That would be great," she replied.

"How's Sunday?"

"Sunday's good," she confirmed. She forced herself to relax. She liked Spike, she liked his mother, she got along with them fine individually— well, at least most of the time, in Spike's case— and they liked her. No problem, right? Right. She sighed, only slightly worried as their conversation continued on into the night…

* * *

Buffy tugged nervously at her purple dress as she sat on the sofa, waiting for Spike's arrival. It had a halter style top and came down to her knees with two tiny slits up each side. She had paired it with some strappy black heels and had pinned up half her hair in a loose ponytail. When the doorbell rang, she started and jumped up to answer it, recalling her earlier conversation with her mother. 

"_Buffy, I don't know why you're so worried," Joyce said. "From what you say, dinner at Spike's should be no big deal."_

_Buffy had ignored her, rummaging furiously though the closet. "It is," she huffed finally, triumphantly brandishing a shoe. "It is a big deal."_

"_But why?" the older Summers queried. "It isn't as if you two are dating. I mean- " She halted at the guilty look on her daughters face. "You aren't— dating him, are you?"_

"_About that. Mom, I- "_

"_Buffy, I can't **believe **you're dating this young man and you didn't see fit to tell me!" she exclaimed. "How long?"_

"_About a month?" She flinched, anticipating more of her mother's wrath._

_Joyce merely nodded. "Well," she said with a sigh. "I can't say I'm completely surprised. Let's find that other shoe."_

If Buffy had known it would be that easy, she'd have told her mother long ago. She threw open the door and smiled when she saw him in black jeans and a blue button down, opened slightly at the neck, black leather nowhere in sight. She wasn't the only one making an effort, apparently. "Mom, I'm going!" she called.

Joyce instantaneously appeared at the door and said, "Spike. I hear you're dating my daughter."

Spike looked like a deer caught in the headlights and answered, "Wh- um, yeah…Mrs. Summers. We're together. Really like Buffy and all that." He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and Buffy stifled a giggle.

Joyce nodded. "Well, just to let you know, if you hurt her, I might just have to come after you with an axe."

Spike nodded. "Well, don't plan on hurting her. She's an amazing girl and I plan on treatin' her with every bit o' the respect she deserves."

Joyce seemed satisfied with that.

As the two teens headed down the walk, the older Summers called out, "And Spike?"

He turned. "Yes, ma'am?"

She smiled. "Feel free to come over for hot chocolate any time the mood strikes you…"

At that, he grinned. "Sure thing, Mrs. Summers."

As soon as they were in the car he let out a rush of air. "That was nerve-wracking. Coulda told me she knew, at least."

"She barely found out. Kinda left no room for the whole telling-you part…"

He pulled away from the curb and sighed. "Mum's been prattling on about you all afternoon, wondering what you'd like and such."

Buffy smiled. "And? What did she decide on?"

"Dunno. Wouldn't let me set foot in the kitchen. Keen on surprising us both, I s'pose."

Buffy smoothed her dress and nodded.

Spike cast her a sidelong glance. "You look beautiful, pet."

Her cheeks colored and she murmured, "Thank you…"

He smirked. "Welcome." He loved how flustered she got whenever he complimented her. It was adorable. Though in that dress it was downright sexy…

"You- you look nice, too." She glanced at him through her lashes.

He tilted his head inquiringly. "Just nice? I was going for 'devilishly handsome' or at least 'kinda sexy'."

"How 'bout 'very sexy' and 'wickedly seductive'?"

His eyes widened slightly at her brazen comments. "Er, yeah. That'll do…"

* * *

"So, Buffy, what are your plans for after high school?" Anne questioned as she buttered a thick slice of homemade bread. 

Buffy sipped daintily on her spoonful of thick, creamy soup. "Um, well, college. I'm thinking UC Sunnydale or maybe trying to get a music scholarship somewhere out east. Then I want to be a personal trainer. Or maybe a lawyer. I'm really not sure yet."

"Diverse interests." The elderly woman nodded. "Always a sign of character. Ambitions will take you far."

Buffy nodded.

Spike coughed. "Mum, there's something I wanted to tell you." His mother looked up with interest as she waited for him to continue. "Buffy and I, we've been seeing each other. I know how much you like her and just thought you should know."

Anne beamed. "Splendid! You two make the most perfect couple. I always knew my William harbored an affection for you."

"Actually, Mum," Spike interjected with a sidelong glance in Buffy's direction. "It's a bit recent. Buffy and I… didn't used to get along." Buffy smiled down at her soup bowl when she heard the understatement.

"Poppycock!" the woman exclaimed. "You think I don't know my own son? You've fancied this girl ever since you laid eyes on her and don't you dare try to tell me different."

"Really," Buffy added, coming to Spike's defense, "You don't have to defend me, he's only telling the truth."

Anne chuckled to herself. "The truth in _his _eyes, maybe. But these old eyes see more than you know. My son spoke of you _constantly_. Still does, in fact. True, it wasn't always nice, not like now, but it was always _you _and that's the _point_. Even when he was with that horrible Drusilla girl, the only name on his lips was Buffy Summers."

Buffy's lips curved upward and she looked at Spike with interest. He smirked guiltily at her and jibed, "What? Can't help it if you were the most annoying bint on the whole bloody face of the earth…"

"Most _annoying_?" Buffy demanded in indignation. "_Me_? _You _were the most annoying- "

"If you don't mind, children," Anne interjected pleasantly, "I'm a bit knackered. I'll just be off to my room." Spike immediately rose to help her out of her chair and Buffy stood to bid her goodnight. "Goodnight, dear," Anne sighed peacefully. I'll take care of the dishes in the morning."

"Oh, I'll do it," volunteered Buffy.

"No, no…You're a guest. That's quite all right."

"I insist," Buffy countered pleasantly, beginning to clear the dishes.

Anne shook her head in resignation and made one last feeble attempt, "I wish you wouldn't."

Buffy looked at her and said, "Really. You prepared this delicious meal for us… It's the least I could do. I'd feel terrible otherwise."

"A girl after my own heart. Terribly obstinate, you are." Anne wrapped Buffy in a gentle embrace. "You're sweet. Have William help you and don't let him slack off."

Buffy smiled as the older woman pulled away. "I won't."

Anne kissed Spike's cheek and retired to her room, leaving the two teens to clean up the kitchen.

* * *

As Spike was folding the dishtowel, having just put away the very last plate, a large handful of soapsuds hit him on the side of the face. He glanced over at Buffy, who was surreptitiously draining the dishwater. Turning, he set down the towel then swiveled to face her, smiling evilly. 

Just as she drew her hand back to fling another tuft of foam at him, he caught her wrist and drew her to him, scooping the soap from her hand and rubbing it matter-of-factly into her hair. "You, you- !" she sputtered, whirling out of his grasp. "I can't believe you just did that!" She glared at him for a moment then reached back into the washbasin for more ammo, patted it onto the front of his shirt, and tore out of the room.

He gave chase and came into the main hallway just in time to see her running up the stairs. Following her, he came to his room and saw his bathroom door firmly shut. Throwing it open, he stalked over to the shower and yanked open the opaque glass door. Buffy was pressed up against the corner and Spike grinned sadistically at her. "Trapped now, aren't ya, pet?"

"Sorry?" she peeped, realizing her predicament. "I'll just…" She stepped towards him just as Spike reached out and turned on the spray, pelting Buffy with a blast of cool water.

Buffy screamed and fumbled for the handle as she was drenched by the freezing deluge, finally succeeding in shutting off the water. She turned to face him. "I cannot _believe _you just did that," she growled, livid.

He rolled his tongue under his teeth and leered at her soaked form. "Whatcha gonna do about it, baby?"

"Oh, I'm gonna- " She leapt at him and he sidestepped her, but she quickly whirled on him and shoved him, sending him stumbling into the shower. In a flash, she was in the stall with him and turned on the water, pelting them both with liquid, slamming the door shut behind her. "If I have to be all wet, so do you," she ground out.

He leaned back against the shower wall, oblivious to the water droplets pelting him, and stared at her with hooded eyes. And are you…all wet?" he questioned smoothly, his voice low and resonant in the small space.

Buffy closed the distance between them and placed one leg on either side of him as he slouched. Her dress rode high on her thighs and she shook her head, dispelling more water and pelting him with tiny droplets. She leaned close and ran her hands down his soaked shirtsleeves. "What do you think?" she breathed.

Suddenly he was all action and before she knew what had happened, he'd spun them around and her back was pressed to the cool tile, her legs hiked up around his waist and his body pressed intimately against hers. Her black heel dug into the back of his thigh as she dragged it down his pant leg and he whispered, "Buffy…" as he ran his hand over her soaked torso, down her smooth thighs, and surprised her by dropping slowly to his knees, pressing his face between her breasts and biting along her stomach as he lowered himself. Finally, he gazed up at her. "Buffy…let me…"

Her eyes widened when she realized what he wanted and she worried her lower lip between her teeth as he gazed longingly at the scrap of silk that covered her. He ran fingers down her outer thigh and back up the inside, causing her knees to go weak. When he ran the tip of one finger along the center of her panties, she made a strangled sound. "Spike…please…"

His eyes flickered up to hers and he saw her staring at him with raw desire in her eyes, oblivious to the water that rained upon her form. "Please, please…"

She had expected him to touch her again but she jerked in surprise and arousal when he leaned forward and sucked on her panties loudly. She buckled forward and braced her hands on his shoulders and choked out, "_Spike_…"

"Shh, baby," he replied, his voice low and throaty. He stood and shut off the water, banding his arms around her hips and drawing her to him. She yanked his head down and attacked his mouth with hers, raising her leg and hooking it around his.

He staggered back, pulling her out of the shower with him into the bathroom, not caring that both of them were dripping wet and quickly creating puddles on the floor. He stepped back and quickly unbuttoned his blue dress shirt, peeling it off and tossing it into a sopping heap on the floor.

Buffy smiled at the sight of his bare chest and darted out of the restroom to bounce naughtily on his bed, wet hair splattering water everywhere. She leaned back on her hands and ran one high heeled toe up the calf of her other leg. Rolling her head sensuously, and exposing her neck, she ran a finger down her chest and raised her head to gaze at him as he stood in the doorway. "Spike?" She cocked her head. "I'm still wet…"

He kicked off his shoes, ignoring the sloshing noises they made, and sent his socks with them. Prowling towards her, he climbed on the bed, crawling panther-like up her body and pushing her back onto the mattress. "Naughty girl," he admonished. "Gettin' my bed all full of water. Whatever should I do to punish you?"

"Mmm…" She grinned. "Surprise me."

He flexed his jaw as he contemplated her. "Well, first…I'd appreciate it if you'd stop soaking my bloody mattress." With an easy dexterity, he lifted himself and flipped her onto her stomach, straddling her thighs. "but since that doesn't seem to be an option…" _THWACK!_

He'd slapped her ass. Hard.

She jerked and inhaled sharply, beginning to squirm under him. "Spike, you- " She bucked up and stiffened when she felt his erection grind into her ass. He placed his hand over the soft swell and kneaded gently in time with the shallow thrusts of his hips.

Buffy let out a low moan and dug her hands into the mattress. "Spike…" she breathed, unconsciously grinding against the mattress, seeking the friction she so desperately craved. He reached up and untied the halter top part of her dress, then sensually slid his hands down her arms and over her back, pulling down the zipper in one smooth stroke.

Buffy tensed even as he leaned down to lave small kisses on her back and finally rolled over underneath him to gaze at him. When their eyes met, hers belied uncertainty while his shone with pure lust. Their stare held until Buffy timidly raked her fingertips over his denim-covered erection. He jerked at her inexperienced caress and captured her hand, holding it against the bulge in his pants. "Feel it?" he breathed. "Feel what you do to me, kitten? Make me want you so bad…"

She gulped and gave his straining penis an experimental squeeze, starting when he made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Gazing at him intently, she began to fumble with his belt buckle. He eased her hands away and leaned down to kiss her, sliding his touch down her hips and thighs, pushing her dress high on the upstroke. Buffy squirmed beneath him and kissed him more ardently, looping her arms around his neck.

Spike reached down to cup his hand over her most sensitive flesh, dexterous fingers pushing aside her thong to caress her moist folds. She bit down on his lip in surprise and he groaned as her unintentional slip sent fire straight to his loins. Slowly, he pushed his middle finger into her tight wetness, hit by a new wave of lust by the feel of her muscles clenched tight around his finger. He experimentally slid it in and out as he sucked on her neck and lazily stroked his thumb around her most sensitive nub of flesh.

"Unh!" she cried as he added a second finger, stretching her impossibly tight passage.

"Pet," he growled. "Let me taste you."

Her eyes squoze shut against his voice that caressed and enveloped her, making her want things she felt she shouldn't want… "No…it's…it's too much…"

He continued pumping his fingers in and out of her as he leaned up on his elbow. "Too much?" he questioned as he quickened the tempo, watching her pleasure play out across her face.

"Too- too soon. I shouldn't…" His fingers felt sooo good and she could barely breathe, let alone think… "I'm not ready. We can't- oh!" Her eyes popped open when he added a third finger. Suddenly the pleasure was bordering on pain, yet it was still unbelievably delicious and the feeling of being stretched so much caused her to nearly lose her mind entirely. As their eyes met, she reached an entirely new peak and she thought she would die from lust. It was so intimate…staring at him while he was doing this to her, making her feel this good. Almost disconcerting, and yet unbelievably hot.

"I'm not asking for anything you're not ready for, baby," he whispered huskily as he stared into the depths of her eyes, dark emeralds shining with pleasure. "I just wanna make you feel good. I could make you forget your own name…just a taste, luv."

By then, Buffy was nearly over the edge with mindless ecstasy, her mouth working soundlessly, eyes closed once more, head thrashing back and forth against the mattress. She nodded fiercely. "I need it Spike. I need you! Oh god…"

Needing not further encouragement, he slid down her body, peeling off her dress in its entirety as he went. He paused for a moment, admiring her near naked figure, clad only in heels and a black thong, flushed and needy on his bed. If possible, he felt himself get harder. He pulled down her thong and Buffy instinctively spread her legs, bending her knees, waiting for him. Spike grinned, knowing how much she needed it. Needed him.

He licked a line from the inside of her knee, to the junction of her leg and hip. "Mmm! Spike, please…" He paused a moment, running his fingers down her waist, then licked straight up her center, pushing his tongue flat and hard against her swollen flesh. "Ooah!" Buffy wailed, hips jerking up off the bed uncontrollably.

He circled the tip of his tongue around her sensitive bundle of nerves then pressed it flat against her, sliding it slowly up and down. Buffy was panting heavily and grabbed his head, holding him against her. He worked his tongue inside her and snaked it in and out while Buffy murmured an unending litany of "Oh god…yes…so good…never stop…Spike…more…mmm…faster…"

As he worked her at a more furious pace, her entire body began to shake and she humped furiously against his face. When he felt the spasms beginning to take her body, he closed his lips around her bud of pleasure and sucked, simultaneously pushing two fingers inside her.

She gasped loudly and held his head in place even as he continued to lick her. "…Spike…_Spike_…SPIKE!" She stiffened, convulsed violently, and then fell limp against the bed, breathing in greedy gulps of air.

As Spike crawled back up her body, he could hear, "Oh god, oh god, oh god," as she murmured quietly with her eyes closed. He draped a hand over her hip and kissed her temple, ignoring his raging hard on in favor of this quiet peace they shared.

After several minutes of silence during which she floated back to earth, her eyes popped open and she turned her head towards him. "You were...that was…wow." She smiled broadly, a faint blush tainting her cheeks.

A pleased smile curved over his features. "So were you…"

Her brow furrowed. "But I… didn't do anything." She glanced down at the enormous bulge in his jeans and her eyes met his. "Do you want me to- " Her hand moved tentatively towards the buttons of his slacks but he stopped her.

"Pet, I did what I did for you. Not because I expected anything in return."

"But…I should…"

"You _should _relax. I want you to be happy. Yeah, I want you, but that's not all there is. I want you to be comfortable."

She squinted her eyes uncertainly. "Sure?"

"Sure," Spike replied, cock throbbing painfully beneath the fabric.

She shifted happily against him and Spike grit his teeth. God, her nubile flesh sliding along his skin… He was in heaven and hell all at once. Once he was nearly certain she was asleep he got up and headed into the bathroom to- er- relieve himself. He peeled off the damp trousers chafing his skin and stepped into the shower, letting the water pelt his sensitive skin, reaching down to grip his throbbing shaft firmly.

"Buffy," he moaned, leaning his right hand to brace himself against the cool tile while his left began to stroke up and down in a steady rhythm while images of Buffy in nothing but sex-vixen heels flashed through his mind. He circled his thumb around the tip and continued to pump with increasing urgency…Imaginary!Buffy dropped to her knees before him and took his hard cock in her mouth, grinning wickedly. The muscles in his thighs clenched and unclenched, and he grit his teeth as he neared the pinnacle… Behind his closed lids, he saw her before him, lips wrapped tight around his shaft as they slid up and down, her warm wet mouth driving him crazy. He imagined being buried between her soft thighs, slippery channel clenched tight all around him…_Oh, god, Buffy…_

His hips jerked spasmodically and Spike came with a muffled grunt and soft whisper of her name as he momentarily lost himself in pleasure…

* * *

Buffy slowly closed the bathroom door. She was wet all over again and she hadn't even _seen _anything…but the hazy image she'd viewed through the foggy glass door…the muffled cry of her name…She felt as if she'd been privy to something divine and sacred…something she shouldn't have seen but something wonderful nonetheless. 

Buffy heard the shower door opening and quickly leapt back onto the bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily when Spike entered the room clad in nothing but a towel. She unconsciously curled up, feeling extremely exposed now that he was in the room…oh god, all she was wearing were her heels…He glanced hungrily over her form and she reddened, noticing the way he turned away sharply. She then watched as he dug in his closet for some jeans and a tee of some obscure band she'd never heard of.

He shamelessly dropped the towel and Buffy gave an indignant squeak and averted her eyes as she began to dress at a furious pace. He cast an amused glance over his shoulder and then dressed at his own leisurely tempo. "Best be getting you home, pet. It's already after midnight."

Her eyes widened and she quickly headed to the door. As she hurried past him, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in for a lingering kiss. He brushed aside a stray lock of hair and murmured, "You're beautiful, pet."

Hr cheeks flamed up and she kissed him again. As he dipped his tongue into her mouth, reigniting the flame within her with each stroke, she reluctantly pulled away. "I have to go home," she reminded him.

He stepped back and sighed. "Right. Shame, that." He picked up his keys and they headed out the door.

* * *

When she walked in the door at 12:30, her mother greeted her coolly, but Buffy was too preoccupied to pay her much mind. The ride home had been pleasant and when he'd stopped in front of her house, he'd given her one last kiss before she climbed out of the car. As she'd been going up the walk, he'd called out, "Pet?" 

She'd turned.

"Hope you enjoyed the show."

She'd sputtered then rushed into the house. He _knew _she'd seen him! Arrogant jerk! It was so like him not to be ashamed. She smiled. Not that he had anything to be ashamed _of_...

Crawling into bed that night, her face still flamed, but as she drifted off to sleep, a tiny, self-satisfied smile settled over her face…

* * *

Hey guys, another long time, no update, I know. I SWEAR I'm trying…In other news, not that you care, I got a 1970 on my SATS, so whee! Some stress is over and maybe I can concentrate more on this story…good, yes? Well, this chap is especially long to (hopefully) make up for the 2 months in which I didn't update. I thought about splitting it in 2, but then i figured you guys deserved the whole thing all at once for being so patient with me. Tell me if you like it through a review, and the next one will be up ASAP! 


	15. Cat's Out of the Bag

**Previously on Buffy: **Buffy's mom finds out about her daughters relationship; Buffy has dinner with Spike's mother. After cleaning up, things get a little…_wet_ up in Spike's bedroom. Then, Buffy catches a naughty little show to fuel her Spikey fantasies…

* * *

A week later Spike presented Buffy with a necklace adorned with three tiny charms. Upon inspection, she saw that they were music-related. A tiny drum stick and clarinet were separated by a miniscule pair of eighth-notes.

Her face brightened at the thoughtfulness of this present and she leapt into his arms and kissed him, joyfully oblivious as to who was watching. Dancing away before he could catch her, she finally stood still so that he could fasten it around her neck.

He fingered it affectionately. "Lovely…"

She blushed and handed him a small envelope. Upon opening it, Spike found two tickets to a rock concert on the edge of town. He looked pleased and when he glanced up at her, he questioned, "Two tickets? Whomever should I take to such an event…? I'll have to think about this one." He looked playfully thoughtful.

She punched his arm.

"Ow!"

"Jerk."

He gathered her up in his arms. "Thanks, pet. Happy one month…"

She smiled. "Happy Anniversary, Spike."

* * *

The next month passed quickly, with Spike coming over for Thanksgiving, their Christmas concert going smoothly, the rock concert leading to some steamy making out in the back of the Desoto, Spike lugging armfuls of bags as Buffy Christmas shopped, and Xander's growing ever distant from her.

By then, there were rumors everywhere of Spike and Buffy's togetherness, but they neither confirmed nor denied anything. She found it strange that Xander had yet to ask. There were many times she'd nearly told him, but it was almost as if he didn't want to know. Finally, she resolved to let him know in some roundabout way. Yes, she decided. That would make it much easier.

When school let out for break, Buffy planned a movie night at her house, and when the night rolled around, she was a bit anxious as to what Xander's reaction would be to Spike's presence in her home. As she set out a bowl of popcorn, the doorbell rang with Willow, Tara, and Anya on the other side. The trio rushed past her and all started jabbering at once.

"Is Spike here yet?"

"Buffy don't be nervous because- "

"Xander has _no _idea Spike is coming."

"It's good Spike's not here yet because- "

"Do you have ice? I wanted to make strawberry daiquiris…"

"Wait!" Buffy cried. Silence fell as everyone gazed at her tense features. "Just sit in the living room and be calm," she instructed. "Spike and Xander could be here any minute. Oh god, I'm nervous. Is Oz coming?"

"Later."

As Buffy ushered them into the living room, the bell rang again. It was Xander. He thrust a tray of brownies at her and said, "Brought some nummy goodness for ya. Anya here?"

"She's in the living room."

He brushed past her and joined his girlfriend. Buffy took the store bought brownies to the counter and turned to see Spike calmly entering her house. He saw her and cornered her against the counter, his hips holding hers in place.

She eyed at the kitchen door nervously and said, "Not now, Xander might- "

"The whelp can sod off. Why haven't you told him, Buffy?" Spike's eyes narrowed as he gazed down at her questioningly. "I've been patient, but I want _everyone_ to know you're mine." He spoke roughly, but there was also a note of pleading underlying his tone.

"That's what tonight is for."

"We said over a month ago that we were going to be open about us!"

Finally, her eyes met his. "We are! Everyone knows."

"Except Xander." There was a sneer in Spike's voice as he said the other young man's name.

"Except him. But after tonight, he _will_." She gazed up at Spike, willing him to understand. She clutched at his hand, holding it so that he wouldn't back away from her.

"Well, we'll just see how well this goes," Spike said with a sardonic eye roll, tugging his hand from hers.

Buffy glanced around Spike to see Xander standing in the doorway staring at them incredulously. "What is _he _doing here?" the brunette demanded. "I thought this was our group movie night. No bleached assholes allowed, right?"

Spike stepped away from Buffy and took a menacing step towards her friend. "Keep it up boy, and I'll show you what happens to gits who can't keep their mouths shut."

Buffy hurried forward, grabbing Spike's arm. "Ook, we're all friends here- "

"Friends? Buffy, this is _Spike_. Or have you forgotten? Please don't tell me those rumors are true…"

In response, Spike stepped back and placed a possessive hand on Buffy's hip, the other coming up to stroke her hair and then rest on her shoulder. Judging by his earlier stiffness, Buffy knew he'd only done it to be antagonizing. Sure enough, Xander glanced between them and wordlessly turned and made his way out the front door. Buffy opened her mouth soundlessly and then rushed after him.

"Xander!" she exclaimed as the door slammed shut behind her. "Xander, please wait…"

He whirled on her. "Why? So I can watch you and that asshole make moon eyes at each other all night? Buffy, how could you not tell me?"

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to react like _this_."

"You think I didn't know? You think I'm stupid?" His voice was filled with pain. "Buffy, I _knew_, and I spent the last month wondering when I was gonna hear it from _you_."

She stepped towards him. "I'm sorry. Did Anya tell you?"

"No. No, Anya didn't tell me. It's nice to know you have my own girlfriend keeping secrets from me. I heard it from Jonathan, and had it confirmed by a flag girl." He shook his head. "_That's _how I found out my best friend was dating her enemy of four years. Well, that and coming to her house to find you groping him in the kitchen."

"I wasn't- "

"_Not _the point," he interjected.

"Xander I- I just didn't want you to be upset."

He scoffed. "You've got a real funny way of showing it. But then again, it's obvious your judgment's been suffering lately." He paused, glancing up to the porch where Anya had appeared. "When he breaks your heart, don't come crying to me."

"He won't," she said firmly. "Just please try to understand."

"Too late for that." He backed down the sidewalk, nearly bumping into Oz who had just arrived, and called, "Anya, you coming?" The concerned girl hurried down the walk. She cast an apologetic look at Buffy and followed him to his car.

Crestfallen, the blonde traipsed up her steps and pushed her way through the front door. Spike took one look at her and quipped, "Cat's out of the bag, i'nnit now luv?"

She gave him an ugly look at said "_Try_ to be a little more understanding? He's just looking out for me."

"Yeah," he snorted. "If you ask _me_, the bloke's just jealous. Wants a little bit of Buffy for himself…"

"Don't be stupid!" she snapped. "We're _friends_ alright? I know _you_ can't understand not wanting to do every girl you meet, but that's not how it is."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well in that case, I'm off. Maybe I'll wander about, think about shagging all the pretty little bints I see, but I don't have to stay here, listening to this from _you_."

Her jaw dropped in surprise. About to ask him to stay, she snapped it shut. If that's how he wanted to be… "Fine, go. I don't care. You've probably been doing it all along anyway. Just get out of my house."

He smirked at her. "Ta, luv." Giving her some British version of the peace sign, he breezed through the front door, sauntered down the steps, greeted his fellow drummer who was waiting patiently at the bottom, and disappeared into the night.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she sought to compose herself in front of Oz, who gave her a sympathetic nod as he gently closed the door behind him and made his way to the living room. Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat, took a deep breath, and went to rejoin her friends…

* * *

Hey guys, I know it's been a _really_ long time, and, truth be told, I kinda gave up on this story, but the fact that I was _still_ getting reviews on it after over 2 years of no updates made me reconsider. I didn't mean to leave you all hanging like that, please don't hate me, but life gets busy, people get writers block…you know. Here's another chapter and if people still seem interested I really will make time to finish it. So please review if you guys are want more. Thanks!!


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